


To Close to Home

by WildClover27 (PrairieFlower)



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28773720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieFlower/pseuds/WildClover27
Summary: A fight. A death. England is becoming too dangerous.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All non-canon characters are my own and not for other people's use.

The table where the four Americans sat was unusually quiet. The men sipped their drinks and barely spoke to each other. They looked exhausted, which they were. Robbie, the bartender, kept an eye on them. He was almost more concerned with their detachment than their usual frivolities and fights.

“I slept all bloomin’ day,” lamented Goniff. “I’m still knackered.”

“We all are, Limey,” said Casino without his usual vigor. He swirled the ale in his glass without taking a sip, eyes watching the clear yellow-brown liquid with disinterest.

Actor did take a sip from his glass. It was warm as always and somehow unsatisfying. They had come to the Dove’s thinking it would renew their flagging spirits after this last mission. If anything, he was feeling more down. He glanced at the young Indian beside him. 

Chief was staring into his glass, lost somewhere and considering where they had been, that somewhere wasn’t a pleasant place to be. He had not even played one round of darts.

The other reason they had come to the Doves was to get away from the Sgt./Major. Collins was entirely too chirpy and telling them about the workout he had in store for them in the morning. Not to mention the food had not even been up to Collins’ low standards.

One of the local men, in his tan work pants and plaid wool vest over a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his thick deltoids, approached the table. Chief’s eyes looked up tiredly.

“’Ey, Chief. ‘Ow about a game, Lad? We got us a nasty bunch. Don’t know from where. They don’t like ‘ow we play.” The man’s mouth turned up into a conniving grin. “So, wot say you show ‘em ‘ow it’s done?”

Chief shook his head. “Not tonight, Bill. I’m just not up for it.”

“You sure?” wheedled the man.

“I’m sure,” said Chief.

Bill shook his head in disappointment. “Maybe some other time.”

“Maybe,” replied Chief with little enthusiasm.

The four watched the Englishman walk away. Nobody voiced it, but they were relieved. The last time Bill had talked Chief into a dart game with outsiders, it had erupted into a fight, only that time the girls had been there.

“Well, this is a barrel of fun,” said Casino sarcastically.

“I don’t know about you blokes, but I’m ready to go back to the Mansion.”

“Yeah,” agreed Chief. “Maybe the Sgt./Major went to bed already.”

“Besides,” added Casino, “the booze is free there.”

Actor was in total agreement. He had a book he would not mind getting back to with a nice glass of Courvoisier. It wasn’t to be.

As they stood up, a trio of rough-looking men approached. The four were on alert. Four more men stationed themselves in a semi-circle around the cons. It smacked of a gang fight in stir. The head man was a burly fellow about Chief’s height and about fifty pounds heavier.

“I ‘ear you don’t want to lose at a game of darts with me,” the man sneered.

“We’re leavin’ now,” said Chief. “Maybe some other time.”

“Scared?” taunted the man. 

Chief shook his head. “No, just not in the mood for a game.”

Actor was at his full six feet four inches. He took a step forward. “If you will kindly let us pass . . .”

“I weren’t askin’ you, Beautiful.” The burly bloke eyed the Italian with derision.

Casino shot a glance at Actor. The tall man hated to be called ‘Beautiful’ and the safecracker was the only one who could sometimes get away with it. This time, Actor did not rise to the insult. He merely eyed the man as if he were a disgusting cockroach. That did not help matters any. 

It wasn’t the taller man the leader took a swing at, but Chief instead. The agile Indian side stepped the blow but did not return it.

“You bloody Yank!” The man had to catch his balance. He snapped his fingers and the other six men leapt in. 

It turned into a brawl. The Englishmen had coshes and brass knuckles. Tired, and with slightly slower reflexes despite the adrenalin rush, Casino, Goniff and Actor had their hands full and were taking some hard hits. Tables overturned and chairs were broken. The leader was going one-on-one with Chief. The younger man had more agility and managed to evade most of the man’s attempts to hit him. This only made him angrier.

Robbie was standing on a stool behind the bar. He didn’t like this one bit. Bar fights were one thing, but this had a different feel to it. And the other patrons were steering clear, though they stayed and watched from a safe distance. Robbie kept an eye on the fight and reached for the phone. He did not even need to look to dial the 999 emergency number.

After a bit, Chief was beginning to get tired of playing with the stockier man. The more he evaded, the brighter red the man’s face got and the wilder his punches. The man tried to barrel into Chief. As the Indian tried to side-step, a broken chair slid across behind him, tripping him and he went down. Robbie saw the hand reach up and pull a blade from beneath the Englishman’s collar. The bloke dove at Chief, blade arcing. Chief tried to roll away, but the chair was in the way and the tip of the knife sliced through his shirt and across his ribs. The hand reached back for a better stab. Instinct took over and Chief’s blade was in his hand and coming up. Chief jerked his head away and the man came down with his knife and just missed slicing his ear. The man landed heavily on the Indian’s blade, sending it up deeply under ribs. A wide-eyed look of surprise stared into the younger man’s eyes before the life went out of them.

“Bloody ‘ell,” breathed Robbie in shock.

Chief shoved the body off him and got to his feet. He stared down in his own state of shock. He had just killed a man. This wasn’t Georgia. It sure wasn’t Germany. This was England and he had just killed one of their civilians.  
A loud whistle screamed through the barroom as British Bobbies pour in the door. By the time Robbie’s attention turned back to the fight, the Indian was gone.

GGGGG

Garrison tried to tune out the agitated whine of Sgt./Major Collins. It was impossible. Craig did not even know what the man was complaining about this time. It was a welcome relief when his phone rang.

“Lieutenant Garrison.”

“Leftenant? This is Robbie at the Doves. You best be meeting me at the police station in Brandonshire. It weren’t your blokes’ fault. I’m going there to tell the police that.”

“Of course, they’re fighting. Just let them cool their heels until morning. I’ll get them out then,” said Garrison with resignation.

“No, Sir, you don’t understand. One of the blokes who jumped them is dead. And the Indian is missing.”

“Dead!” exclaimed Craig in disbelief

“Yes, Sir. It was self-defense. I watched the whole thing. I’ll explain it at the station.”

“I’ll meet you there,” said Garrison.

Craig ignored Collins’ sputtering to find out who was dead and what was going on and where was the Leftenant going. 

“You stay here,” ordered Garrison. “If any of the men show up, keep them here!”

GGGGG

Even with the blackout and no headlights to speak of, Garrison made it to Brandonshire in twenty minutes. The inside of the police station was chaos. There were Cockney voices raised and whining above the strident voices of Casino and Goniff. Garrison’s men were being held in a corner of the main room while five rough men were being shoved into the back room where the cells were. Goniff spotted Garrison and yelled to him.

Robbie was trying to make himself heard to a police sergeant over the ruckus.

“Knock it off!” yelled Garrison. There was immediate silence from everyone. Craig pointed at his men. “You three shut up!”

Robbie straightened and waited for Garrison to join him. Sgt. Gleason watched, hoping there would be peace now the Yank army officer was there.

“What happened?” demanded Garrison.

Robbie took a breath and started over. “I don’t know who they were,” he said. “They came into the Doves and I just had a feelin’ they were trouble.” He looked at Garrison. “Your blokes were just fine. They were keepin’ to themselves. Bill went over to the table. I don’t know what he wanted but after he left, these ruddy idjits started a fight. Your men were trying to leave. They wouldn’t let them. The dead one took a swing at Chief. The rest of his men lit into your lads, Leftenant.”

“So how did one of them end up dead?” asked Garrison with a hard voice.

“I saw the whole thing,” said Robbie. Now his attention turned to the police officer. “He got Chief down and pulled a knife and went after the lad. I think he got him too. He went back after the lad again and ended up on top ‘o him. Chief must have had a knife out. The bloke ended up on top o’ it. It wasn’t the lad’s fault. It was self-defense plain and simple. I want to press charges against the other six. I don’t want any charges against Leftenant Garrison’s men.”

“What about the one who killed the man?” asked the Sergeant, just to make sure. “He ran.”

Robbie nodded. “I know. But I don’t want any charges brought against him.”

Sgt. Gleason was new to the station, but he had heard tales of the Americans living in the old mansion. He wasn’t sure he wanted the headache of dealing with them. If this Robbie, who was the owner of the Doves, something that was not common knowledge, did not want charges brought against Garrison’s men, then that was fine with him.

“Okay,” Gleason called to his other officers. “I want statements from all of these men, then you can let those three go with the Leftenant.”

The relief from the men in the corner was palpable. They settled down to give their statements so they could leave as soon as possible. 

Garrison ran his fingers through his hair and went to the phone on the wall. He called the mansion and waited for the Sgt./Major to answer.

“Is Chief there?” Garrison did not bother with amenities.

“No, Sir.”

“Well, watch for him. There’s a possibility he’s been stabbed.”

“Stabbed, Sir?”

Garrison didn’t answer him. He hung the phone up without saying anything more.

GGGGG

It was two hours before the paperwork was completed and Garrison could take the men home. The three cons were subdued as they walked out and got into the Packard. Garrison had finally gotten a good look at them. They all had bruises and abrasions. He should take them to a hospital to be checked up, but as they were all walking, talking and making sense, he decided they would take care of the cleanup at the Mansion. As he started the car up, he glanced at his second sitting in the front passenger seat.

Actor was leaning back, eyes closed. “Did I hear Robbie say Chief was stabbed?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“What? The Indian was cut?” demanded Casino. Apparently, Actor’s voice had not been quiet enough.

“We don’t know,” said Garrison.

He put the car into gear and pulled into the street. Instead to going straight for the main road out, Craig drove to the Blue Fox and parked at the curb, leaving the engine running. “Stay here,” he ordered the men. Getting out, he trotted to the door of the pub.  
Terry and Kit were both behind the bar. Terry looked up sharply at her brother.

“What are you doing here?” she asked concerned.

“I need you at the mansion. Now. There’s been some trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” asked the girl, setting down the glass she was drying and hanging the towel on a hook under the bar.

“There was a fight.”

“There’s always a fight.”

“Not like this,” said Garrison wearily. “They were outnumbered and are pretty roughed up. Chief’s missing and the one who started the fight with them is dead.”

Terry stared at him, speechless. “Oh my God,” was whispered by Kit beside her. Terry reached under the bar and grabbed her purse and keys. 

“Go,” she said. “I’ll catch up.”

Garrison went back out to the Packard as Terry headed for the alley. Craig got in the Packard and pulled away from the curb. 

“Was she there?” asked Actor.

“Yes,” replied Garrison.

“Is she coming?”

“Yes.”

They had just left the edge of town when the MG tore past them and never slowed.

“Somebody needs to teach that girl how to drive,” remarked Casino. 

GGGGG

Terry parked by the wooden gate to give the Packard room closer to the steps. She bounded up to the door and pushed inside, tossing her purse on the side table. The Sgt./Major came out of the kitchen to see who it was. He didn’t get a chance to say anything first.

“Chief here?” asked Terry urgently?

“No, Miss,” replied Collins. “What’s going . . .”

“I need warm water, towels and at least three aid kits,” ordered the girl.

By now Collins had learned if Terry was flinging orders it was for a good reason. He turned back into the kitchen to get basins of water. Terry took the stairs two and three at a time. A couple minutes later she came back downstairs carrying several aid kits in her arms. She had just set them down on the game table when the sound of the Packard’s horn reached her.

A few minutes later, the front door opened. The three injured men dragged themselves inside, followed by Garrison. Terry motioned them to sit at the table. They were a mess. Casino and Actor had torn clothing. Casino was sporting bruises and abrasions on his face. Goniff’s face was even worse. Like the pickpocket, Actor had a bruise on his left cheek, a split lip and an abrasion on his jaw and forehead.

Garrison tossed his jacket on the coat tree and took one of the aid kits to start on Goniff. Terry was closest to Casino, so she opened another kit to begin with him. The Sgt./Major bustled out with a basin of warm water and some cloths. He went back for two more basins.

Terry tilted the safecracker’s face to one side for a closer look. “Brass knuckles?”

“Yeah.”

Garrison’s head snapped around to stare at his sister. She caught the movement. “New York,” was all she said.

“Now, give me the real version,” said Craig to his men, ignoring that answer from his sister for now.

“Nothing different than what you heard at the station, Warden,” said Casino. ‘Hey, watch it, Sister!”

“Well quit swinging you head around,” she shot back.

Garrison dabbed at an abrasion on Goniff’s cheek with a wet cloth. He shot a glance at his second.

The Italian shook his head.

“What happened with Chief?” demanded Garrison.

“I don’t believe any of us know. We were a little preoccupied with our own problems,” said Actor. “Robbie was the only one who saw Chief.”

“Yes, but he didn’t see him disappear.” Garrison dabbed some salve on the abrasions.

“You know Chiefy,” said the pickpocket. “You blink an’ ‘e’s gone.”

“Lieutenant,” said the Italian resignedly. “Chief had just killed an Englishman on British soil. He probably assumed he would be thrown back in prison.”

Terry finished with Casino’s face and used a finger to pull back a tear in the man’s shirt. There was a dark bruise underneath. “Rib broke?”

“Naw,” he shook his head. “Just feels sore.” He leaned back in the chair. “Thanks, Babe.”

Terry smiled at him before turning toward Actor. The Italian was very tired. He looked up and apologized. “I am sorry, Teresa. I can take care of this myself.”

“Actor . . .,” started the girl.

“Can it, Actor.”

Both turned their heads to look at Garrison, who was concentrating on what he was doing. The con man looked back at Teresa. She had an amused grin on her face.

“What he said, Actor,” she said firmly.

The Italian attempted to raise one eyebrow but thought better of it as it wrinkled an abrasion on his forehead. Terry began to clean his wounds, so he sat still and allowed her to do so. 

“Do you need anything, Miss?”

Nobody had paid any attention to the Sgt./Major standing by the stairs. Terry and Garrison looked up at him.

“Cold packs for their faces,” said Garrison.

“And warm packs for their ribs,” added Terry. “Thank you, Sgt./Major.”

The non-con went back to the kitchen. Now they could talk freely again.

“So, wot do we do about Chiefy, Warden?”

“We’ll give him as much time as we can,” said Garrison. “And we look for him ourselves.”

“Aw come on, Warden,” objected Casino. “The longer we give that Indian, the farther away he gets.”

“Not necessarily,” said Garrison.

“Warden,’ said Actor, involuntarily wincing when Terry touched a raw spot, “Chief cannot leave England. He has no money and no means of transportation. If he could hide on a freighter, where would he go? He would not make it on the Continent. He does not speak any of the languages. Go back to the States? He would be hunted down even if he survived the trip.”

“So, where is he?” asked Casino.

Garrison looked hard at Terry.

“What?” asked the girl, catching the look out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t know where he is.”

“But you know how to get hold of our sister.” Craig gave her an insincere smile. “He’ll contact her.”

“How would he know how to?” she asked, hedging.

“Come off it, Terry,” said her brother. “I know what goes on between those two. Just like I know what goes on between you two.” His eyes swept between the girl and his second.

“Lieutenant! I object to that. . .”

“Can it, Actor,” interrupted Garrison. “You’re still breathing, so don’t worry.”

At any other time, Casino would have been jabbing it into the con man. He was too tired and sensed the Lieutenant was not going to see it humorously.

Terry carefully stuck a finger into the hole in Actor’s shirt and moved the opening around to see inside as she had done to Casino. “Bruised, but nothing open.”

“Apparently the one on Chief was the only one with a knife,” observed the Italian.

“Good thing, I say,” piped up Goniff. “If ‘e was able to cut Chiefy, he’d ‘ave sliced the rest of us to ribbons.”

The Sgt./Major came around the corner with warm wet towels stacked on one upturned palm and cold towels in the other. The men took the towels and made pads out of them for their injuries. Terry started gathering the aid kits to put them back together.

“Leave that,” said Craig. “Call your sister.”

Terry looked at her watch. “Craig, it’s two in the morning. Let her sleep.”

“Call . . . her.” The tone of voice had Terry shaking her head. “Knowing Chief, he probably made it to London already.”

The girl got up and shut herself in Garrison’s office, with the phone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chief had not made it to London. He figured there would be roadblocks set up, with angry English soldiers ready to shoot him on sight. He stopped to lean against a rough barked tree to catch his breath. There was an open field coming up and he needed a rest before he tried to run across it. The bark was rough against his arm and shoulder but didn’t feel as bad as his ribs. 

Carefully he parted the rip in his shirt to try to see the knife wound in the filtered moonlight. Even with his eyesight, he couldn’t see it. The shirt was dry and hard with a little bit of moisture, so he assumed the bleeding had slowed, but not stopped. The knife had bounced over a couple ribs which had probably saved him from any major damage. 

He cursed himself for allowing the man to get close enough to do damage. If, by some miracle, he was ever allowed back with the group, he’d have to get some practice in with the Warden. Garrison was the best of them with a knife. And he knew how to fight dirty. Get back with the group? He’d be lucky if they shot him on sight instead of sending him back to stir in the States. Nope, he wasn’t going back to that.

The cold air on his sweat soaked shirt was making him shiver. Chief pushed himself upright and headed across the field. It was going to be a long way to London. Good thing Christine had been billeted in an abandoned estate to the southwest of the city. He’d never make it by dawn. He’d have to find someplace to hide until nightfall again. He knew that would probably be the first place Garrison looked for him. But he had no place to go and he had to gamble Chris would help him.

GGGGG

A groggy voice answered the phone on the third ring. “Yes?”

“Wake up, Sister,” said Terry.

“What time . . . Terry it’s two o’clock in the morning. What’s the matter?” the voice was immediately alert.

“Rainey with you?” asked Terry quietly in Lakota.

“No,” denied the younger girl, picking up the language. “What would he be doing here?”

Terry took a breath and let it out in a sigh. “There’s been a problem. There was a fight at the Doves tonight.”

“There’s always a fight at the Doves with those guys. What happened this time?”

Terry tried to word it so the girl wouldn’t panic. “My understanding is seven of them went after our guys.”

“So? They can handle seven of them.”

“One of them’s dead.”

“Dead! Dead how?”

“Chief knifed him.” So much for tact. “The guy pulled a knife and Chief ended up killing him.”

“But that’s self-defense,” said Chris. 

“The local cops see it that way. And Robbie refused to press charges against our guys. But we don’t know how the army’s going to see it. And there’s another problem.”

“Where’s Rainey?” asked Chris with dread.

“We don’t know. He took off. Craig thinks he’ll head for you.” Terry did not like having to tell her this.

“Why would Craig think that?” asked the younger girl. “Craig doesn’t even know where I am. Why would he think Chief does?”

“Because Craig ‘knows all about you and Chief’, just like he knows all about Actor and me.”

“About you and Actor maybe, but me and Chief? We aren’t even doing anything.”

“You know Big Brother. He thinks he knows. Um, Chris? Does Chief know how to get to you?”

There was a little hesitation. “Yes.”

“Okay, then watch for him. And Chris, the guy knifed him before Chief killed him. We don’t know how bad.”

There was silence on the other end. “How do they know he’s knifed?”

“The guys didn’t see it, but Robbie did. Only he didn’t see Chief disappear.”

Terry could practically see Chris worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

“All right. What do I do if he comes here or calls?”

“Hang onto him. That might not be easy. And call my ex-.”

“Call who?” she asked quizzically. Then understanding sank in, “Oh, okay.” There was another hesitation and in a softer voice the girl asked, “Are you and Actor going to be okay?”

“Sure,” said Terry with seeming unconcern. “This isn’t anything new for either of us. I wish Craig would get over it.”

“Me too.” Chris and Chief had more to lose than Actor and Terry if Craig was going to be vindictive again.

Terry hung up and turned around, not surprised to see her brother just inside the door watching her. 

“She going to be okay with this?” asked Garrison.

“I think so. She’s learning a lot over on the Continent.” Terry gave him a hard look. “Craig, cut them some slack. There’s an attraction. We all know that. But they aren’t doing anything. And Chris is good for Chief. I think he’s good for her too. At least he’s good to her.”

“I know,” admitted Craig. He stepped closer to his sister. “What about you and Actor?”

Terry shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what I say, you’re going to believe what you want. And that’s the worst about me. And with Actor’s reputation . . .” She shrugged again.

Garrison got serious. “Relax. Nothing is hurting the team. If or when it does, then I’ll have something to say about it. Right now, it might help us with Chief if he goes to Chris. At least we’ll know where he is.”

“And what about the Army?”

Both Garrisons turned to look at Actor, lounging in the door, deceptively at ease, one hand holding the warm pack to the bruise beneath his shirt.

“We’ll wait until morning. If Chief shows up, we can work with it,” said Garrison.

Actor straightened and approached the two. “And to whom must you report this to?”

“Probably Col. Hammond to start with, and Gen. Abrams.”

Actor shrugged his eyebrows. “Better than Col. Yates and maybe a bit more difficult that Major Richards.”

“And what’s the Army gonna do to him? Send him right back to stir,” Casino answered his own question. He walked into the room, followed by Goniff.

“We don’t know that yet, Casino,” said Garrison. 

The safecracker eyed him belligerently. “If he was me, he’d hightail it to Ireland. They fight the English almost as much as the Krauts do.”

“Really, Casino,” said Actor in disgust.

Garrison looked at his safecracker. “When we know where Chief is, we will figure something out.”

Goniff was shaking his head. “Warden, if Chiefy doesn’t want to be found, nobody’s going to find ‘im.”

“It’s an island, Goniff,” said Garrison. “He’ll have to appear sometime.”

The pickpocket and Casino were elbowed out of the way by Collins. “Would you like me to put a call through to G-2, Leftenant?”

“No,” replied Craig. “Hopefully we will know more in the morning and then I will notify G-2.”

“But it’s me job . . .”

“I could cure that for yuh, Warden,” offered Casino, a sneer of distaste directed at the back of the non-com’s head.

Garrison was trying hard to not lose his temper. Calmly, he said, “Go to bed, Casino. All of you go to bed. There’s nothing we can do until morning. Get some sleep.”

It was with a mental sigh of relief he watched all of them leave his office. Now he would have some peace to think things out. When he was sure everyone was in their room, Craig walked slowly into the common room and turned the lights out. Going back to his office, he lit a small fire in his fireplace, just to cut the dampness, and sat down in his chair, lit a cigarette and turned the desk light off. 

Garrison had half expected Chief to kill somebody at some point. Still, he had not been ready for this. He hoped the young man would show up, either at the Mansion or at Christine’s flat or wherever it was she and the boys lived now. Chief had made a lot of progress since Garrison had first met him in Attica. He had come to trust Garrison and the other men, and it was no surprise Chief had trust issues. Pryor and Statenville would have been enough to ensure that. He had even developed a sense of humor. Now he was absent without leave, something the Army had little tolerance for, no matter the reason. Craig started working out his strategy for the confrontation he knew he would have with the generals.

The fire had burned down to red coals when the tall figure entered the room without knocking. The confidence man slouched in the chair across from Garrison and crossed his long legs, heels resting on the corner of the desk. Actor pulled a cigarette and lighter from the pocket of the purple smoking jacket he was so fond of. Purple.

“Why aren’t you getting some sleep?” asked Craig.

‘I knew you would be sitting up, waiting. I thought I would keep you company.” There was no asking, just a statement of what he was going to do. “Any plans?”

Garrison took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly. “All I can do is plead his case, if he turns up.”

In a British accent Actor said, “I know a decent barrister. From Johnson, Johnson and . . . “

“Borghese?” cut in Garrison with a smile in his voice.

“But of course, Leftenant.”

“I may take you up on that,” admitted Garrison ruefully.

“I give free consultations.”

The two men sat in companionable silence for the length of a cigarette each. Garrison broached the subject first.

“I don’t have any problem with you and Terry. Whether you are or are not having some kind of relationship.”

“As well you shouldn’t, Warden,” said Actor steadily. “You are very good about trying to ‘persuade’ us to better ourselves and become upstanding citizens after the war. The four of us have followed lifestyles that are an affront to society. We are paying for that. But you do not hold our pasts against us. The things we have done are far worse than a young girl falling in love with a man who did not, and does not, deserve her. When are you going to stop holding that against her? I should think he has punished her enough for both of you.”

Craig’s first thought was he should tell Actor it wasn’t any of his business, but the man was right, and Craig was the one who kept bringing him into the matter. “Are you talking about yourself or Jake?”

“I was referring to Jake,” clarified Actor, “she’s not in love with me.”

That was questionable. Garrison answered vaguely, “You’re right.”

“However,” said Actor, “Teresa’s ‘relationship’ with me is not the issue.”

“Does Chief know where Chris is living now?” asked Garrison, back to business. The cons kept a lot to themselves. Actor seemed to know everything.

“I would not presume to make an assumption like that,” said the con man, lighting another cigarette. “I have never seen him take or make a call to her from here. When we are at the pubs, he does not make any calls. You receive and censor his mail.”

“He doesn’t get mail,” said Craig. “From anyone.”

“His dossier doesn’t say much about any living family,” remarked Actor, taking a puff on his cigarette and blowing the smoke upward. “And except for the Christine we know about in New York, who married someone else, we know nothing of any friends. He is closed mouth about his past.”

Craig nodded. “That dossier of his is about as fictional as yours.”

“I am proud of my dossier. I think it is one of my better works.” After that bit of levity, the Italian sobered. “What is fictional about Chief’s? Granted it is very dry reading of dates and incarcerations.”

“His age for one,” said Garrison.

“You know his real age?” asked Actor with interest.

“His dossier says he’s twenty-six. He’s twenty-two.”

Actor sighed. “And I would assume Pryor knew that.”

“Probably.”

That would explain a lot about Chief’s temper and distrust. “So, what will you say if he doesn’t surface and you must explain the situation and his absence to the Army?”

Garrison looked across his desk at the features of his second’s face, the angles highlighted by the dim flickering light of the fireplace, giving him an almost sinister look. “Establish his youth and his fear of returning to prison. Explain the circumstances of the fight and the death of the Englishman. Try to get them to see it from his point of view.”

“I wasn’t aware your alias is Don Quixote.”

“So, what is your idea?”

“I have none at this time.” Actor shrugged. “I am afraid I am your Sancho Panza.”

“You’d look funny as Dulcinea,” observed Garrison with a smile.

“Thank you, Warden.”

Both men chuckled.

GGGGG

Chief made it across the field without incident. Apparently, the farmer did not have a dog. There were no lights with the blackout; no sounds of alarm. He rested on the other side of the field. The next hurdle would be crossing the road that led to Archbury Air Force Base. There might be traffic on it. At least he could see if there were any police or army vehicles patrolling.

Finding where Chris lived wasn’t going to be easy either. She had described the route to get to the house in the country she and boys were billeted in, but that was by road. The SOE would not appreciate her giving away their location to someone like him, but she wanted him to know where she was. Even the Warden didn’t know exactly where she lived. 

The Warden. The man had been there for him when he needed him on missions, but this wasn’t a mission. Chief doubted the there was much of anything the officer could do to help. And he probably wouldn’t want to. There wasn’t anybody Garrison or Actor could pull out of nowhere to give him an alibi like the confidence man had done when the Warden went before the tribunal.

A new thought tore through the Indian’s mind. What would happen to the Warden? He was responsible for the men. And one of his men had just killed a civilian in an Allied country. The army was funny. Even if Chief turned himself in, the Army would hold Garrison responsible. And the Army would never believe it was self-defense.

It was going to start getting light soon. Chief needed to be across the Archbury road before then and find a place to hide for the day. He pushed himself upright and started off, arm tucked tightly against his side. 

Except for a supply truck, there was no traffic on the Archbury road. Chief thought it was strange but took the advantage as it came. He raced across the road and into the trees, stopping to catch his breath. The harder breathing had stretched the slice on his ribs, making it bleed a little heavier and burn more. Only resting for a minute, he took off again, trying to get into the loping run that was ground covering.

Between having to skirt farm houses, towns and creep along hedge rows, and the pain in his side, Chief was kept from covering the amount of ground he normally would have. The sky was just beginning to lighten when he stopped at the edge of woods, overlooking a farm.

A woman came out the back door of the house and walked to the chicken house with a basket on her arm and a scrap bucket in her hand. The Indian watched. There seemed to be no activity in the house. The barn was dilapidated, but that didn’t mean there weren’t cows or anything else in it, despite no animal noises reaching his ears. It was tempting, but he hadn’t stayed alive on the Continent by giving in to temptation. So, he watched and waited as the woman emptied the scrap bucket and headed back to the house with eggs in her basket from the hen house.

Staying in the cover of the trees, Chief circled behind the barn and chicken coop. He didn’t want to set the chickens off squawking by getting too close to them. A derelict tractor sat behind the barn, covered with dirt and rust, obviously not having been used in a long time. That made him head for the field beyond the barn. A very few tall mounds of moldy hay remained in the field that was overgrown with weeds. Beggars couldn’t be choosy about their accommodations. Chief skirted around to the far side of the field. With a crouching run, he left the relative safety of the woods and got to the hay stack which was closest. He’d slept in worse. It did not take long for him to burrow into the blackened hay and cover his entrance behind him, leaving a small hole for air.  
The smell wasn’t too good, but he had been in worse places before. He positioned his arm to protect the wound from the prickly straw that poked him all over. Unusual for him, Chief fell asleep immediately, worn out from the mission, the fight, his injury, and his escape.


	3. Chapter 3

Sgt./Major Collins set a steaming cup of black coffee on the Lieutenant’s desk, reaching over the crossed feet of the sleeping confidence man. The other cup he handed to Garrison, who gratefully accepted it. Collins walked around and pulled the blackout drapes back, allowing morning light to flood the room. He turned and went back to the kitchen.

One honey brown hazel eye opened and scanned the immediate vicinity.

“He’s gone,” said Garrison, taking a sip of the hot coffee and then stifling a yawn. He glanced at the clock on his desk for the umpteenth time. It was five minutes to eight. 

Actor realized this was one of the very rare times the young officer had not taken his morning run around the perimeter trail. Stretching aching muscles in his shoulders, ribs and back, the con man dropped his feet to the floor and reached for the coffee. One thing, the Sgt./Major could make strong coffee when the need arose, and this was one of those times. Actor watched Garrison pick up the phone.

“Would you like privacy?” offered the Italian.

Craig shook his head. “Not necessary.” 

He dialed a number and waited for an answer. In a brief time, he got one.

“This is Lt. Garrison. I need to speak with Col. Hammond. We have an issue here.” He waited for a full two minutes before the Colonel picked up.

“What is your issue this time, Lt. Garrison?” asked Hammond wryly.

“There has been an incident and one of my men is missing,” said Garrison with a calmness he wasn’t all together feeling.

“All right, Lieutenant, what kind of ‘incident’ this time?”

“There was a fight at the local pub. A man was killed. My man was injured and took off. There are extenuating circumstances, Sir.”

“Let me guess . . . Chief?”

“Yes Sir, but he was cleared of any charges by the local police. He disappeared.” Garrison paused. “Sir, I think this would be better discussed in person.”

There was a pregnant pause on the other end. “Extenuating circumstances and a dead man. That seems fitting for your group, Garrison. And you are correct. This is better handled in person here in my office. And who is the dead man?”

Garrison sucked in a cheek. “A British civilian.”

“Wonderful, Lieutenant. You do know how to start my morning. All right. I will see you at eleven hundred hours. And I think due to the nature of this business it would be wise to bring Major Richards in also.”

“Yes, Sir.” Garrison had expected that.

“Do you know where Chief is?” asked Hammond.

“Not at this time, Sir,” replied Craig.

“The MPs will be alerted.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The phone went dead before he even got the words out. No, thought Craig, Hammond was definitely not happy.

“What time?” asked Actor as Garrison placed the receiver in the cradle.

“Eleven.”

Actor nodded. “Gives us time for a shower and shave before we leave.”

“We?” asked Garrison, archly. He was not about to let the man know he wanted the company.

“Of course,” replied the con man matter-of-factly. “I have had two hours more sleep than you. It wouldn’t do for you to wind up in a ditch before reaching G-2.”

The two men exchanged a look. Actor was relieved there had not been an outright rejection of his accompanying Garrison, and Craig was relieved the Italian had offered. Their silent communication was interrupted by the arrival of Terry. 

She wandered into the room and walked up to stand beside Actor. Garrison couldn’t quite work up the amusement at watching his sister take the Italian’s coffee from him and take a sip from it before setting it back on the desk.

“Any word?” she asked, ignoring the put-upon glance up she received from Actor.

“From Chief? No,” replied Craig, taking another sip of his coffee. “I have an 1100 appointment at G-2.”

“Need a driver?” offered Terry.

“Have one.” The coffee cup gestured toward the con man.

Actor reached for his coffee, hitching a shoulder again. Terry moved behind him and began massaging his shoulders and neck. Garrison watched a brief smile cross the man’s face.

‘The MPs have been called out,” continued Craig.

“I’ll let Chris know.”

Garrison watched his second lean forward a little so the girl could work his spine between his shoulder blades. If Actor had been a cat, Craig swore he would be purring right about now.

“How come he gets a back rub and I don’t?” asked Craig in mock annoyance.

“Because I know him,” replied his sister. “If he’s driving, then he got a little sleep, probably twisted like a pretzel in that chair. I can tell by looking at you, you were awake all night.”

“Yeah, well don’t put him to sleep,” admonished Garrison with a quirk of his mouth.

“Well, seeing as you know us so well,” said Terry innocently, “I could take him upstairs and give him a quicky.”

“Teresa!” objected Actor. “Must you be so crass about it?”

“We’re a crass kind of family,” teased the girl.

Garrison shrugged. “If I got a quicky about now, I’d go right to sleep.”

“Lieutenant!” Actor was wide awake now.

Terry chuckled and rubbed his shoulders lightly, bending to kiss his cheek. “It’s all right, caro. We’re not that crass.” She grinned at her brother. “Boy, you are tired, aren’t you?”

Craig nodded. “Nothing goes out of this office,” he warned.

“Better hope it’s not bugged,” muttered the girl.

GGGGG

Anyone seeing the two men, one starchily dressed in uniform and the other in a casual suit, would never know the two had spent two sleepless days in France and little or no sleep the past night, but they would have wondered at the bruises and abrasions on the taller man. They were ushered right into Col. Hammond’s conference room where they were soon joined by the army officer and Major Richards. A Wren secretary entered with a paper pad for notes.

Hammond looked at his wayward Lieutenant and stifled a sigh. Garrison was stiffly at attention. The confidence man’s stance showed old world aristocracy, which had to be a con. Major Richards was looking between the three.

“At ease, Lieutenant Garrison,” said Hammond. “Everyone have a seat.”

Major Richards fixed the colonel with a look of interest. “I’m afraid I was not informed of the nature of this meeting.”

Hammond tented his hands on the table top and looked at the younger officer. “I believe I will let Lt. Garrison explain this.”

“Perhaps it would be better if I gave the explanation,” said Actor to Garrison’s surprise. “After all, I was witness to the altercation. The Lieutenant was not there.”

“And why was the Lieutenant not there?” asked Hammond.

“Because the Lieutenant rarely fraternizes with us,” said the con man smoothly. “It is unbecoming his rank.”

Garrison had an urge to turn his head and stare at his second. He squelched the urge, but Major Richards looked at Actor with a grin and a shake of his head.

Col. Hammond had never had the opportunity, or the urge, to accompany Garrison and his hoods on a mission. He knew the British Major had and it changed the man’s opinion of the men. 

“Would one of you please carry on?” ordered the colonel.

Actor settled back in his chair as though having a casual conversation with friends. “The mission had been lengthy and tiring. The Lieutenant had graciously allowed us to spend a couple hours at the Doves. The local pub,” he explained not quite condescendingly. “We were too tired to enjoy it. As we were about to leave, a small group of British men, non-local, approached and wished a game of darts with Chief. He politely refused. They impolitely did not accept that and started a fight.”

“And just how many men were in this small group?” asked Richards, wryly.

“Seven,” replied Actor. “Normally it would not have been a problem; however, we were not up to our usual standard. We were all occupied with the gentlemen we were having the altercation with and did not see what happened to Chief, other than at one point he was down on the floor. The next thing we knew the constabulary had arrived, there was a dead man on the floor, and Chief was gone.”

“So, you did not see this dead man knife Chief or see Chief knife him?” verified Hammond.

“No, Sir, we did not. However, Robbie, the bartender, observed the fight. He explained to the local constabulary the man had cut Chief with a knife, Chief had fallen over a chair, and the man went in with the obvious intent of doing great bodily injury to the young man. Robbie said it was self-defense. The Bobbies arrived right at that moment and when Robbie looked back, Chief had disappeared.”

“Where are the rest of these Englishmen?” asked Richards.

“In jail in Brandonshire,” replied Garrison.

“And why, if it was self-defense, would Chief have run?” asked the colonel.

Now it was Garrison’s turn, “Sir, you have to understand where his mind was at. First, he had just killed a civilian, and a British one at that. He knew it was self-defense, but probably thought no one would believe him. So, he ran.”

“Colonel,” Actor picked up the thread of thought, “none of us are willing to return to prison. Chief would have assumed that was where he would be sent, if he wasn’t hanged first.”

“And Chief has even more reason to fear returning to prison than the others,” said Garrison. That got the attention of the two officers. “He’s younger than what is on his record.”

“How much younger, Lieutenant?” asked Richards curiously. 

“Four years, Sir,” answered Garrison. 

Hammond could do the math. “But that made him . . . “

“Fourteen when he first went into prison at Santa Rosa, New Mexico,” added Garrison. “He was between fifteen and twenty when he was in Attica, Sing Sing and Statenville. Twenty-one when he went into Attica the second time. Knowing the treatment he received from the inmates and Col. Pryor, would you expect Chief to do anything else but run . . . Sir?”

“Still,” said Hammond, “he is AWOL. And the army cannot tolerate that.”

“Sir, if I may,” interjected Actor. “The four of us are not regular army. Perhaps that can be taken into consideration.”

Major Richards cocked an eye at Col. Hammond. “They definitely do not follow regular army protocol,” he said with a small smile. “That is precisely why they are as proficient as they are at what they do.”

Col. Hammond chewed on a cheek. “And you have no idea where Chief is?” It was more of a certainty than a question.

“Not at the moment, Sir,” said Garrison. “However, we are pretty sure he is still in England. The States is not safe for him, and he doesn’t speak enough of the languages on the Continent to survive over there.”

“Makes sense,” agreed Richards.

Now Hammond sighed. “This will have to be taken before the generals. A hearing will be held. Lt. Garrison, you will notify me the minute you hear from your man and know where we can find him.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Garrison, barely covering his frustration.

“Excuse me, Col. Hammond,” said Actor. “If he comes back on his own, what will be done with him? Will he be allowed to stay with us, perhaps under house arrest?” The con man knew better but wanted it out in the open so there could be no misunderstanding.

“No,” answered Hammond. “He’s already made it clear he is a flight risk. No, until we have a hearing and most likely a tribunal, he will be confined to the stockade.”

Actor nodded without any objection. Garrison sat silent, following the older man’s lead. Richards also remained silent, for the moment.

“Dismissed, Lieutenant,” said Hammond. “You will be informed when the hearing is to take place.”

“Yes, Sir.”

They all stood. Garrison saluted and turned for the door. Actor’s departure was a bit more casual. Major Richards looked at Col. Hammond and shook his head before following the two men out to the hall. The British officer waited until the hall was fairly clear before speaking in a low voice.

“Tell me, Lieutenant,” he asked in a conspiratory tone, “do you know where Chief is?”

“No, Sir,” said Garrison truthfully. “I have no idea where he is.”

“Perhaps it would be best at this point to make sure it stays that way.”

The British major and the two Americans exchanged a look of understanding.

GGGGG

Two cons, one British non-con, and one sister were waiting for them when Garrison and Actor entered the front door. It was late afternoon and both men were exhausted. Still, they looked at the eyes looking back at them.

“Any word?” asked Garrison.

“Ain’t heard from him, Warden,” cut in Casino.

“We have not heard a word from the MPs either, Leftenant,” said Collins.

Garrison turned his attention to his sister. “Did you do what I asked you?’”

“Of course,” said the girl. “Do you two want something to eat to get you to supper?”

“We ate in London before returning,” said Actor. He smiled. “All I want is my bed . . . for a long time.”

Terry smiled at him. “Thought you might.”

Actor took that to mean his bed was open and awaiting him. Craig hung his Ike jacket on the clothes tree just inside the door of his office.

“I’m with him on that,” said the Lieutenant.

“Thought you might too,” said Terry.

Craig headed for the stairs behind his second.

“Warden? Wot about Chiefy? Wot are they goin’ to do about him?” Goniff’s blue eyes were worried.

“They don’t know yet,” replied Garrison, running a hand through his hair as he did when unhappy. “There will be a hearing. We don’t know when yet.” He turned back to the stairs but paused with his hand on the banister and shot a look at Terry. His next words were in Blackfoot. “Hide him.”

Terry sucked in a cheek at that and gave a single nod.

“Wake me if we hear anything,” Craig threw over his shoulder as he continued wearily up the steps.

There was silence in the common room until they heard the officer’s bedroom door close. Three pair of eyes drilled into Terry.

“What was that, Miss?” asked Collins suspiciously.

“That was none of your business, Sgt./Major,” she said steadily. 

“Come on, Sister . . .”

“You two either,” said Terry. She turned toward the door. “I’m going to the Fox. I think one of the three of you is capable of waking him up if you hear anything.”

The Sgt./Major was confused. “You’re not staying for supper tonight?”

“No, I’m not.” Terry picked up her purse and a light jacket from the tree before heading out the door.

“I bloody hate when they talk Indian,” complained Goniff when the front door closed behind the woman. “It’s like they don’t want us to know wot they’re saying.”

“They don’t,” said Casino sullenly.

“Well, I guess it’s just us for dinner tonight, Lads,” chirped the Sgt./Major, trying to lighten the mood.

All he received was two disgusted looks in return.


	4. Chapter 4

Chief waited until the sun had gone down before emerging from his hiding hole. The knife wound had stopped bleeding but started again as soon as he moved around. He still couldn't see it, so he applied pressure on it and set off into the woods. His first thought was to find water somewhere. Food would have to wait. He wasn't about to get close enough to the farmhouse to raid the vegetable garden. After about a half hour walk, the Indian found a stream and took care of his thirst.

On the outskirts of a village, Chief found a car with the keys in it. He gave a mental shrug. He was already wanted for murder so what was a little grand theft added to it. Glancing around, he saw no one so he climbed in and grinned when the motor started right up. He couldn't very well drive right up to the door of the house Chris was living in, but he could get closer. That is if he wasn't picked up first.

GGGGG

Terry quietly let herself into the mansion a little after nine o'clock. The Bobbsey twins were playing solitaire as usual at the game table in the common room. She hung her jacket on the coat tree, dropped her purse on the stand and walked over to lean on Casino's shoulder and move one of his cards onto the right pile.

"I take it there hasn't been any word."

"Nope," replied Casino, batting her hand when it reached for another car.

"You're back early, Miss." The Sgt./Major came around the end of the stairs from the kitchen.

"It wasn't busy," said Terry. "Kit can handle it and Jake decided to show up for once."

She wasn't inclined to tell the non-com and the other two she hadn't gone to the Fox to work. She had gone there to see if her sister had heard anything. That had been a big negative.

"Have you eaten, Miss?" asked Collins.

"Yes, thank you. I ate at the Fox." Eating was not quite the same as supper, but the Sgt./Major's cooking made the dry, stale sandwich left over from the lunch trade seem better than a full meal.

"Um, Terry?" asked Goniff, laying his cards on the table. "Um, me an' Casino . . ." A dirty look from across the table had him hurriedly stutter. "Well, well really Casino, uh, he come up with an idea for how to find Chiefy."

Terry stepped back so the safecracker could turn in his chair to face her.

"Okay," said the girl, "spit it out." She wanted to hear this one.

"Where's your sister live now?" Casino asked.

"Somewhere southwest of London," said Terry. "I've never been there. Can't tell you exactly where it is. Why?”

"I figure by now he's gotta be getting' close to there, wherever there is. If we start zigzaggin' on the back roads, we might find him.

"Casino!" objected Terry. "He hears the jeep or a car, he's going to hide, not stick his thumb out for a ride."

Casino grinned, "How much gas you got in the MG? He'll come out for that."

"You just want to drive my car," shot the girl back at him.

"It's better than wot we're doing now," piped up Goniff.

"Come on, Guys," said Terry wearily. "My car is a two-seater. If you did manage to find Chief, where would you put him? Tie him on the hood?"

"Hood?" The dubious question came from behind her with a British accent.

"Bonnet to you," said Goniff.

"Oh."

"No problem, Babe," said Casino cockily. "We find him, we hide him, and we call you or come back to get the Packard to go get him."

Terry shook her head. "Have you forgotten there's a war on? Gas rationing. And you want to go running all over the countryside with two cars?"

Casino was unrepentant. "Like the Limey said. It beats where we're doing now."

Neither Terry nor Collins could see the two were doing anything different than what they did every night. Still . . . Terry walked over to her purse and dug out the car keys. She held them up by two fingers.

"If you two misfits put a scratch on that car, or stop for a pint and get in another fight and get thrown in the slammer, I will personally see to it both of you share the same cell in stir with Chief," she warned.

Big toothy grins covered both men's faces as they jumped up from the table. Casino strode over and snatched the keys form Terry's hand. Before she could react, he had an arm around her and planted a big kiss on her mouth. Trying to move swiftly, he wasn't fast enough to avoid the side of her booted foot connecting with his backside. He and Goniff were out the door in an instant, and away from the glare that followed them. As soon as the door closed behind the two, Terry's glare melted into a contented smile.  
"Excuse me," said the Sgt./Major curiously. "But why risk your car with those two?"

Terry shrugged. "Casino won't hurt it." Her smile widened. "Besides, it keeps them out of our hair."

The thin lips widened beneath the beak of a nose. "Oh, very good, Miss Teresa. Would you be interested in a cuppa and a couple biscuits in the kitchen?"

"I believe I would," said Terry cheerfully. As she followed him into the dining room, she asked, "Where did you get biscuits?"

"I found them in a tin on the top shelf in the pantry," acknowledged the man. "I figured they were for special occasions. I think this qualifies as a special occasion. Don't you, Miss?"

Terry laughed. So much for hiding Goniff's stash.

GGG

An hour later, Terry headed upstairs. She went to the middle of the hall and carefully opened the door to Actor's room. It was cool and damp inside. She quietly lit a small fire in the fireplace. As she rose, she took in the man's bare feet sticking out over the end of the mattress, pointing down. Terry walked back and gingerly lifted the covers to pull them down over the feet.

"Thank you, Teresa," The voice was muffled by the pillow Actor's face was buried in.

"Go back to sleep."

She let herself out of the bedroom and moved back to the next door. The room was just as cool and damp as the con man's. And Craig was sleeping on his stomach too, only his covers were hanging half off the bed instead of over him. Terry lit a fire in his fireplace and straightened the bedding out to cover him.

"Anything?" came Garrison's groggy voice.

"No," replied the girl. "Good night. I'll wake you if I hear anything."

A soft snore greeted that. With a smile of affection, she went back into the hall and headed for her own room. Boy, I need to get a life, Terry thought. She was mothering her brother, who was five years older than her, and the man who had ten years on Craig.

GGGGG

There wasn't much of a moon. It made the darkness under the canopy of the trees edging the rural lane seem thick. With all the turns and zigs and zags, Goniff wasn't even sure where they were.

"You know where yer goin', Mate?" he asked worriedly.

"No," said Casino. "Does it matter?"

Goniff didn't like that answer either. "Well, can you find yer way back to the Mansion?"

"Probably," said Casino. He could tell the Limey was worried by the tone of his voice and his fidgeting. "Hey, look. Worse comes tuh worse, we find London and take the main road back."

They did not see the army jeep parked back from the road under the cover of the woods until it pulled out onto the road behind them. Casino had been driving even slower than usual and that was what had alerted the MPs watching for the AWOL convict. The jeep pulled ahead and motioned for the MG to stop. Casino turned up a convenient drive and parked with the driver door close to a tree.

"You talk to 'em," he said to Goniff.

"Me?" squeaked the pickpocket in objection.

"Yeah, you. I open my mouth they'll know who we are. Tell 'em we're looking for a lost dog."

Casino pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one as the MPs approached the car, one coming to the passenger door and the other staying back a little. Both had their hands on their guns.

Blimey, thought Goniff as he rolled down the window. This was ruddy England and they were being threatened by American troops.

"Ev'nin'," smiled the pickpocket. "Sumfin' wrong?"

The dark haired soldier leaned down and looked into the vehicle.

"You were driving too slow," he said. "Are you looking for something?"

"Yeah, Mate," smiled Goniff as his most charming self. "You seen a little dog? He got away from me sister's house back a couple miles."

The man looked at him dubiously. "You – uh think you're going to fit a dog in there?"

"Oh sure," returned Goniff, warming to the task. "'E's a little blighter." He cupped his hands indicating something smaller than a loaf of bread. "'E's really me niece's dog. It's 'ard to see tonight. Guess we'll have to wait until morning. If you see 'im and catch 'im, 'e belongs to the farm about two an' a half miles back. Wot you doin' out 'ere in the middow of the night?"

Great, thought Casino. How he's gotta run off at the mouth.

"Sorry, Mate," said the safecracker in a fair attempt at Cockney.

He put the car into reverse and eased back so the other soldier could get out of the way. Once on the roadway, Casino turned and drove back the way they had come. Goniff rolled up the window.

"Yuh couldn't keep it short and sweet?" grumbled the cracksman.

"Wot?" asked Goniff in an injured town. "I thought I was doin' right well there."

"Sure," replied Casino. "Next we'll be dumpin' Actor and usin' you for a con man." He shook his head. "Let's go back. We ain't gonna find that Indian.”

They did not know how close they had come to finding Chief. It was the jeep stopped at the top of the bar ditch that alerted the Indian and made him turn up another road before reaching the vehicle.

GGG

Even without a map, Chief knew he was getting close. The house was on an old estate, like the Mansion, but this one was bigger and had a caretaker's house closer to the road about a half mile from the drive to the main house. There was a little gated drive going up to the brick house. It had a second story but wasn't as big as the Mansion.

Chief drove past and ditched the car in the woods. He snuck back and let himself through the gate. Yup, Crystal's dented car was there. Looking around to make sure there was nobody inside the compound waiting to nab him, he crept up to the door and knocked lightly. Chief felt exposed standing in front of the building and was trying to make up his mind whether to leave or knock again when the door opened a sliver.

Kelly Garrison was peering out to see who it was. Without a word, the tall boy held the door open a little farther and let Chief slip inside. With the door closed securely and locked, Kelly turned a light on.

Chief did not like the disgusted look on the boy's face. He would have felt better if he had his blade. As it was, he felt more naked than the boy in pajama bottoms and bare feet. Two more men came down the narrow stairs from the second floor. One was the tall, blond Dirk. The shorter, stockier one had to be Tinker. Pushing through between them was Christine, hair down, robe hastily thrown on over a cotton gown.

Chief looked at all the faces arrayed in front of him. Crystal looked worried and sympathetic. Kelly's expression was neutral. The other two were glaring hostilely.

"Terry says no charges were brought against you," said Chris. "But you disappeared and to the Army that makes you AWOL"

"I ain't goin' back to stir," said Chief sullenly.

"It wouldn't have been an issue," said Kelly. "You didn't help yourself at all."

"I say we turn him over to the Army." Tinker eyed him with derision.

"It's not you concern, Tinker," said Chris.

Chief shook his head. "I'm leavin'. I don't need this."

"Settle down!"

Chief stared at the teenager in surprise. Though the boy was several years younger than him, Kelly had the beginnings of the Garrison bearing.

The tall blond boy gestured at the bloody torn shirt. "How bad?"

"Don't know," replied Chief gingerly fingering the tear open. "It's still bleeding."

"I'll fix it," said Kelly. He turned to his sister. "Craig have a plan?"

"I don't know yet," said Chris, eyes assessing the bloody shirt. "I'm supposed to call the Fox."

"At four in the morning?" Dirks voice was disbelieving. "What pub is open at this hour?" He gave a cynical chuckle. "Never mind. It has to be Terry. What's she into besides them?" he gave a derisive wave of his hand toward Chief.

"I don't know," said Chris a little hotly.

"Ain't none of your business," added Chief.

The last thing Chris wanted was a fight or Chief leaving. She looked at the two boys with pursed lips. "Why don't you two go back to bed. This is family."

"I don't think Craig would approve of you referring to him as 'family'," said Dirk, archly.

"Go on back to bed," said Kelly resignedly. "I'll take care of this."

Tinker turned and gave the taller blond man a shove. "Come on."

Dirk shook his head and trudged back up with the short, dark man behind him.

"Have a seat at the table," said Kelly, pointing to the dining room table. "I'll get the aid kit." He looked at his sister. "Go call the Fox and see what's going on."

Chris gave Chief a silent, worried perusal before turning and going into a small room off the main one that they used for an office. The Indian watched her disappear into the other room. He looked around. The living room had a cottage look, closer in style to Crystal's old flat than the Mansion, with big chairs, rag rugs on the floor and a well-worn table.

Kelly returned with an aid kit in hand. He still was not the friendly boy Chief has met before. Without a word, Kelly pulled a chair out and began opening the kit.

"I can do that myself," said Chief with a less than friendly attitude of his own.

"Just take your shirt off," said the boy. "If I let you do it and something happens, we'll both get the wrath of the Garrison sisters down our throats. This way it'll just be me."

"I don't need nobody coverin' me," Chief shot back defensively.

"Boy, you have an attitude just like Monty did. If you don't need anybody, then why are you here?" Kelly looked him in the eyes.

To his surprise, Chief didn't have an answer to that. So, he unbuttoned his shirt, pulled the tails out and took it off. In the light of the lamps, he got a good look at the wound for the first time. A mixture of dried and fresh blood covered a large area of skin around the slice.

Kelly cleaned the skin with alcohol, being careful not to get any on the cut itself as this point. Cautiously, he pulled the edges back with thumb and forefinger.

"Should have had stitches," said the youngest Garrison. "Probably too late for that now. I'll butterfly it and wrap you up good."

Kelly opened a small packet and laid out some pre-made butterfly tapes. Actor would like that, thought Chief. SOE must have money for that kind of stuff. Sulfa was sprinkled into the cut that looked to be about six inches long on a diagonal across ribs and upper stomach, and about a half inch deep at the center. Chief watched dispassionately as the edges were pulled together with the butterflies. A wad of gauze dressing was placed over that. The Indian placed a palm on it to hold it in place and scooted forward on the chair seat. Kelly wrapped his chest with a couple packs of roller gauze. He was just finishing tying it off when Chris came back.

"Is it bad?" she asked in concern.

"It's going to leave a scar, but we all have them, so one more shouldn't make much difference." Kelly eyed the con up and down. "I might have a shirt that'll fit you."

"Thanks," said Chief quietly.

"What did Terry say?" asked Kelly, ignoring that.

"She wasn't there. Kit will call her in the morning," replied Chris. She studied the bandaging and looked up at her brother. "Did you suture it?"

"Nope. Taped it. I want it to be able to drain if it needs it."

Chris nodded. She avoided Chief's eyes and began putting the aid kit back together. Kelly swept the pieces up into his arm and headed for the stairs.

"I'll take care of this," he said. He glanced at Chief. "I'll bring you back a shirt too. You can sleep on the couch."

Chief wasn't sure if that was just an offer or a warning. He nodded. Chris waited until her brother was up the steps before taking the seat he had just vacated. Her worried eyes sought out Chief's.

"Oh, Rainey," she lamented softly. "I wish you had stayed there. This is a mess now."

"I get a shirt, I'll get outta your hair," he said, looking away. It wasn't the response from the girl he had hoped for.

"No! You stay here now," said Chris quickly. "Madge said Terry wants you to stay put. I don't know what kind of a plan they have until I talk to her or Craig. Madge said I can't call the Mansion."

"She give you any idea what's goin' on?" asked Chief.

"No." Chris shook her head. "But I don't think it's good." She glanced at the bandaged chest. "Does that hurt much?" she asked softly.

"Not much now that it's wrapped," he replied.

Kelly came back down the stairs and tossed a shirt to Chief. He walked over and dumped a pillow and blanket on the couch without a word. He exchanged a quick, unhappy look with his sister and went back up the stairs.

Chris gave Chief a little smile. "I'm glad you made it here," she said before turning and following her brother upstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

Garrison felt like he had never left his desk. He was still tired though he had gotten several hours of sleep. He remembered his sister coming in at some point, lighting a fire and straightening his covers. He didn't know when it was. The rest of the night had been fitful. He kept awakening and trying to figure out how he was going to get Chief out of this one. That was if Chief didn't disappear completely.

The phone rang and he grabbed it before Collins could. "Lt. Garrison."

"'Morning Craig," said Kit's voice. "Can I speak to your sister?"

"Just a minute."

Craig set the phone down on his desk and got up going to the door.

"Terry!" Garrison called.

"What?" came the call back.

"Kit's on the phone."

Craig went back and sat down behind his desk, not picking up the receiver. He heard his sister's feet skipping down the stairs.

Terry went into Craig's office and took the receiver that was held out to her. "What's up?" she asked.

"Is Craig still there?"

"Yes."

The voice became quieter. "Call Chris. She has a package."

"Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes."

'That's kind of what I thought." Kit hung up.

Terry handed the phone back to her brother. She shook her head. "Girl has no business sense."

“Kit doesn't have any sense," said Craig with a grin. "Hurry back."

Terry raised an eyebrow. He knew what the call was really about. She knew Craig was watching her as she bounced out of the office, grabbed her coat from the tree and her purse, before hurrying out the door.

GGGGG

The basement door opened, and Terry entered. She could tell by the tired eyes, Madge had been up all night.

"Busy night?" asked Terry.

The Cockney woman yawned. "Lot of traffic. Himself is over there again. 'E 'ave another bird over there?

"Who knows," said Terry dismissively.

Shiv had never cheated on her that she knew of. But this bitter man wasn't the one she had fallen for in New York. Nothing would surprise her now. Terry sat down on a chair beside Madge and dialed her sister's number on the regular phone.

Chris answered on the second ring. "Terry?"

"Yes. So, you have our package?"

"Yes. But I don't know what to do with it. This is not a safe place." The younger girl sounded worried.

"How bad is the damage?" asked Terry with concern.

"Nothing Kelly can't fix with a little tape."

There was silence as Terry thought. A memory came to her. "Okay, you have wheels?"

"Yes."

"You familiar with the way to Norfolk?"

'Kind of"

"About an hour outside of London is a cute little pub called the Golden Unicorn. Rather appropriate I think in this situation."

"Funny, Sister," said Chris with a touch of sarcasm.

"They have an upstairs. No questions asked. And the food's good."

"You've been there?" asked Chris curiously.

"To eat," replied her sister sourly. "Not for the upstairs. Just go there. "Call Kit when you get there. And keep the package out of sight."

"I know how to do that," replied the younger girl in disgust.

"Figured by now you should. Be careful. The MPs should still be out. Oh, and try the shepherd's pie."

"Okay." Chris hung up.

Terry hung up and sat back.

"Golden Unicorn?" asked Madge with a grin. "New safe house?"

"Is now," said Terry with a return grin.

The basement door opened, and Malinda came in. "You're here early," the British co-radio operator said to Terry.

"You're late," interrupted Madge.

"Long night?" asked the chestnut-haired girl, unconcerned.

"Busy one," replied Madge.

"I think I'll just leave you two with your work," said Terry, stifling a grin.

GGGGG

Terry came in the front door of the mansion and hung her coat on the tree.

"Terry," Garrison's voice was neutral.

Terry went in the office. Garrison motioned her to shut the door, which she did before flopping into the chair in front of his desk.

"She could have just called here," said Craig wryly. He leaned back in his chair and took a drag off his cigarette.

"I don't trust your phone," replied Terry smartly. "Do you? Or even your office."

Garrison leaned back in his chair. "I swept the office. No bugs. The phone is questionable." He looked at her. "How much damage?"

"Nothing that Kelly couldn't take care of."

"They need to get out of there."

"They are," replied Terry cautiously.

"Where?"

"Safe house." Terry frowned. "You really want to know the location? You know at some point they're going to interrogate you. They have a different kind of pull on you than the Gestapo would."

"Point taken." He eyed his sister. "Plan?"

"Not a clue," replied Terry. "Ball's in your ballpark."

Garrison shook his head. "Maybe we should bring in some more balls," he suggested.

"Craig! That was bad."

He grinned. "I thought it was good."

Terry got up and went to the door. She looked at their confidence man. "Um, Actor, we need your expertise."

Three pair of male eyes shot to her. Actor rose from his chair.

"So, where is he?" asked Casino.

"Some place safe," replied Terry vaguely.

"Ain't no place in England that's safe.'

"Ain't no place anywhere else that's safe either," shot the girl back with his accent.

Actor looked at her with raised eyebrows as he motioned her into the Lieutenant's office. This time Terry sat on the corner of the desk instead of the chair, leaving it for the con man. Actor looked at the officer.

"Where is he?" he asked steadily.

"With Chris, like we expected," replied Garrison.

"That probably is not a safe place," observed the Italian. "He needs to hide somewhere else."

Garrison turned his head toward his sister. "Apparently Chief and Chris are going to a safehouse."

"We have one?" asked Actor, knowing full well they did not.

"Ask her," Garrison said. "She doesn't think it would be safe for me to know where that is."

Now Actor fixed the girl with a dubious look. "You have a safe house…"

Terry shrugged. "I made one up. One of you needs to know where." She stood and leaned over to whisper into Actor's ear. "Shepherd's pie."

Garrison watched his second frown and then the corners of his mouth curve up into a grin when comprehension arrived.

"Very good place," the Italian said with approval.

"Thought you'd like it," grinned Terry, resuming her seat.

Garrison was slightly annoyed. "You know where her safe house is?"

Actor chuckled. "Yes, Warden. We have been there together, but not for that reason. It should be safe. No one knows of it." He looked at Garrison calculatingly. "So, what is your plan?"

"I don't have one," admitted the Lieutenant. "Do you?"

Actor shrugged. "Not yet.

"Great," muttered Terry.

Actor eyed her with annoyance. "And I suppose you have a plan," he said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

"No," she replied. She saw both men look at her. "Hey, I did my part. I got him hidden. It's you guys' turns."

Garrison ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I hate to have to be on the defensive, but I think we will have to wait and see what G-2 comes up with."

And on that note, the phone rang.

GGGGG

A plump middle-aged woman with curly graying blond hair stood up from behind the desk in the Golden Unicorn. She eyed the two young people with a pleasant expression.

"We would like a room, please," said Chris. "Two beds."

A smile tickled the woman's lips. "I have one available. Our best room. How long would you be wanting it for?"

"A week to start with," replied Chris confidently.

"I'll need the money up front," said the woman, all business now. She rattled off a price.

Chris pulled her wallet form her purse and removed the correct amount.

"What name?" The woman practically snatched the money.

"Chantel DeCaliente," said Chris, using one of her aliases. "And my brother, John."

That garnered her dubious looks from the woman and Chief.

"Half-brother," amended the girl, maintaining her poise.

The woman put the money away and got a room key from a board of cup hooks. She handed it to the girl. "Upstairs, last room on the right."

"Thank you," smiled Christine.

She let Chief pick up their two bags and proceeded up the stairs. The hall was narrow and not well lit, with a worn wooden floor that creaked every couple steps. There were six rooms, three on each side. Chief didn't hear any noise coming from any of the rooms they passed. It was impossible to tell if they were occupied.

At the end of the hall, Chris unlocked the door of number five and cautiously opened the door. The two slowly stepped inside the room. It was small, but cozy with a little fireplace, a table and chair against one wall, and two twin beds. They both looked at the beds.

"I suppose we could push them together," suggested Chris. "I'm sure that's what they expect."

“No," said Chief firmly.

Chris turned her head to look at him. "No what?"

"No, we're not sleepin' together."

"Oh, sorry," she almost kept the embarrassment from her voice.

Chief set their bags down on the floor and turned the girl to face him, keeping his hands on her upper arms.

"Chris, you're a nice girl. You come from a good family. I ain't sayin' I don't want to sleep with you. I'm sayin' if I can stay out of stir and make it to the end of the war, then we'll see if you still wanna be with me. I'm not sleepin' with you without bein' married to you."

Crystal's eyes widened. "Rainey, was that a proposal?"

"Uh, not exactly," he said uncomfortably. "You don't know me. You might not wanna marry me when this is over."

"I know what you are," said Chris softly. "And I know what you've been. I'm not afraid. I think if you were given half a chance, you could do something good with your life."

"Yeah, well," he hedged. "Right now, I don't even know if I can stay outta stir."

Chris became serious. "Craig can fix it."

"Yeah?" replied Chief, his tone of voice showing his doubt. "Warden, couldn't fix his way out of that court-marshal. Actor had to do it."

Chris was not about to give up. "And Actor's with him. The two of them will come up with something."

GGG

"Tribunal," said Craig. "Preliminary is at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow morning."

"And….," prompted Terry, twisting to look at her brother.

"And what?" he replied in disgust. "I don't have a clue."

And for once he didn't. His eyes went to Actor. The Italian shook his head. Inside Craig's head, the gears began to turn.

"Okay, this is what we'll do," he began. Both second and sister looked at him expectantly. "Tomorrow I go meet with the officers, alone."

"Why alone?" objected Terry.

"Because I need you two here in case something goes wrong. One of you can get Chief away and the other can get the rest of you out." Garrison gave a mental 'humph' at what he had just said. When had he chosen his men over the Army? When Major Richards had sent them on a suicide mission and offered him the opportunity to not go with his men.

Actor wasn't buying it. "As your barrister, I believe I should be there. Are you going to trust another court appointed Army lawyer like the last one?"

Garrison shook his head. "And what if they throw you in the stockade?"

"They won't," replied the con man with confidence. "They will want to gather information from us first at the tribunal. So, we play innocent and only give them a little bit of information they already know."

"Do you even know how to play innocent?" asked Terry wryly.

A slow turn of the man's head and a raised eyebrow had her backing down. Garrison made a note to himself to have Actor teach him how to do that.

The master confidence man continued. "Teresa knows where and how to contact Chief and Christine. And I am sure she could manage to hide Casino and Goniff if it comes to that."

"On or off England?" asked Terry.

"Terry, quit being smart mouthed," said Garrison wearily.

"I'm serious, Craig," replied the girl. "Do you want me to take them to the Continent?"

Garrison shook his head. "I don't know how you do it, but I believe you can do it. Can you get them to Switzerland?"

"I can try," replied the girl, not at all sure she could do it without her brother or Actor.

GGGGG

The day was long, and Chief was antsy. He hated being confined, even if the company was good. Christine had gone out and bought a deck of cards. They had moved the little table out and sat playing gin rummy and some of the games Christine remembered from her childhood.

At noon, the girl went down to the dining room and ordered a couple sandwiches and two bitters to take upstairs. Even she was getting antsy, which was unusual for her. The bar reminded her of the Fox in a way. The lunch crowd was mostly men in coveralls and muddy boots; working men in for a bite and a pint before going back to the fields. Following her sister's recommendation, Chris put in an order for shepherd's pie for supper.

Juggling two baskets and two glasses of bitters, she made it upstairs and tried to tap on the door with her foot. "It's me," she said only as loudly as she dared to not draw attention to herself. The door opened and Chief reached out to take some of the food from her. He shut the door behind her, and they sat back down at the table to eat.

"Do you think we could sneak out after dark and go for a walk?" asked Chris between bites.

"I hope so," replied Chief with a little more emotion than was usual for him.

Which was how they found themselves wandering in the dark and a light fog among tombstones.

"Boy, Rainey," whispered the girl with a hint of amusement. "Go for a walk with you and you take me to a cemetery? Not very romantic."

"Not exactly what I had in mind either," admitted the Indian.

Cemeteries were not his favorite place. The spirits of the dead did not like being disturbed. Still it was better than staring at four walls. Nope, he wasn't going back to prison . . . ever.


	6. Chapter 6

The two men stood side-by-side in the hallway. Neither looked at the other or spoke. One wore full Army uniform with Ike jacket and hat. The other wore a gray tweed suit with black shirt. The hallway was busy with uniformed men and women bustling around on their individual errands. The room they would be entering was all too familiar to the officer. It did not hold good connotations for the civilian either.

The door in front of the men opened and they stepped inside and up to the table facing the line of officers. Garrison snapped to attention and gave a tight smart salute. Actor slowly scanned the array of faces. Major Richards, General Abrams, Colonel Hammond, General Fremont, and an unknown British colonel. The name plate on the table in front of the British officer read Colonel Blakely.

"At ease, Lieutenant," said Fremont.

Craig went into the wide legged, hands behind back, stance. Actor's stance never changed.

"Counsel has been appointed for you. Major Howard will act as your attorney," intoned Fremont.

Garrison and Actor turned their heads only to look at the major who joined them. Howard . . . the one at Garrison's court-martial, who had condemned him and done very little to try assisting him.

"With the tribunal's permission," said Garrison evenly, "I would prefer to have Mr. Borghese as counsel in this matter. He knows law, military and civilian, and knows the defendant."

Howard and Garrison exchanged looks; one surprised, the other inscrutable.

“This is highly unusual," remarked the British colonel.

"We are an unusual team, Sir," said Craig carefully.

General Fremont and the British colonel were the only ones who had never had direct dealings with the confidence man's calm logic.

"I see no problem with it," said Richards casually.

Garrison's oft times unorthodox manner in dealing with problems did not surprise General Abrams. And it always seemed to work. "I have no objections."

Col. Hammond did not care for the con man's haughty attitude but had to admit the man was effective. Reluctantly, he voiced his agreement with Richards and Abrams.

Gen. Fremont was unhappy with the situation, but he had been outvoted before he could come up with a plausible denial.

The British Colonel eyed Actor dubiously. He addressed the Lieutenant instead of the taller civilian.

"He is one of your men?"

"Yes, Sir," replied Garrison, not offering anything further.

"My name is Victor Borghese," said Actor pleasantly, pointedly looking at the nameplate, ". . . Colonel Blakely."

"He's Lt. Garrison's second-in-command," added Gen. Abrams.

"Very effective in that position," put in Richards.

With raised eyebrows, the British colonel conceded. "I have no objection."

Gen. Fremont looked at Major Howard. "Your services are no longer needed, Major Howard. Dismissed.

Howard snapped off a salute and turned to look at the two men beside him. He was ignored by both. Gathering his briefcase and notes, he left the room.

"You may be seated, Gentlemen," said Fremont.

The two sat down at the table, Garrison on the right and Actor on the left. Craig placed his hat on the front corner of the table. Actor felt someone other the men in front of him watching him. He casually turned his head to the left and caught the stenographer, a young WREN, ducking her head back at her machine. Actor stifled a smile. He still elicited the interest of young women, even with a slightly battered face. Unfortunately, that would be of no help in this instance. His attention went back to the officers arrayed in front of him.

"Mr. Borghese, I understand you were at the public house where the incident took place. Is that correct?"

Apparently and as expected, General Fremont was leading the questioning.

"Yes, Sir," answered Actor. "We were at an establishment called the Doves."

"Can you tell us what the circumstances were leading up to the fight and subsequent death of the Englishman?"

Actor nodded once. "We had gone for a drink after returning from a particularly tiring mission. One of the regulars at the pub approached Chief and said he had some friends who wished to engage in a game of darts with him . . ."

"Chief?" questioned Col. Blakely.

"Mr. Sands," explained Gen. Abrams. "The men go by 'nicknames' you could say. For example, Mr. Borghese is known to the members of the team as 'Actor'."

"Proceed, Mr. Borghese," said Fremont.

"We were tired and in the process of getting ready to return to the manor house. This same patron of the pub had approached us on an earlier occasion with 'friends' who wished to play darts against Chief. That had ended unpleasantly, so none of us were amenable to participating again. The gentlemen in question approached us and started a fight. As we were outnumbered, we each concentrated on the men attacking us. In retrospect, we were aware Chief was on his back on the floor with one man attacking him. None of us were able to go to his assistance, and he generally did not need assistance."

"What stopped the fight?" prompted Col. Hammond.

"The bartender had called the constabulary. They arrived and arrested all of us. That was when we saw one of the men on the floor with a knife beside him and another in him. The Bobbies ascertained the man was dead."

"And none of you observed Chief leaving?" asked Gen. Abrams.

Actor shook his head with a frown. "All we saw was that he was gone."

Garrison took over. "No charges were pressed against my men. The barkeep had witnessed the altercation from a distance and told the local police the fight and Chief's part in it were self-defense."

General Fremont's attention was on the Lieutenant now. "Why were we not informed of this 'altercation' and that Mr. Sands had disappeared?"

Garrison looked unflinchingly back at the officer. "I was giving him a chance to return to the manor house. When he had not returned by morning, I informed Col. Hammond, Sir."

Fremont sat back in his chair and tented his hands in front of him. "Do you know where Sands is?"

"No, Sir," replied Garrison.

"And you have not been in contact with him?"

"Not directly. No, Sir," replied Craig.

"Indirectly then?" persisted the general.

"He is with an acquaintance. Currently he is being kept someplace safe."

"Terry?" asked Major Richards.

Actor answered that. "Teresa is at the Mansion and to our knowledge has not spoken with Chief. However, she did ascertain that he sustained a knife injury."

"So she knows where he is." It was a statement from Gen. Fremont, not a question.

We're in trouble, thought Craig.

Actor was not flustered. "She may have known where he was, but I am not sure she knows with certainty where he is now." At least not unless she received a phone call from Christine, he thought.

"He's with a friend?" asked Col. Hammond.

"Probably an acquaintance," said Actor. "Because of the nature of our association with the military, some of us have acquaintances, but not friends."

Boy, is he good, thought Craig with admiration. 

Boy, is he good, thought Major Richards. He's lying through his teeth and you can't prove it.

"The bottom line is, he ran and he's AWOL," said Fremont firmly.

"Sir, any of the four of us might be tempted to run under the same circumstances to give ourselves a chance to think things out. We are convicts. We don't look at life the same as you or the other officers in this room would. We are used to being treated unfairly by people in charge positions, with the exception of Lt. Garrison. And in his past, Chief has been treated more unfairly than the rest of us."

"He has trust issues," added Garrison. "And with good reason. Some of you know the treatment he received from Col. Pryor in Statenville Prison."

"I don't know that story, Lieutenant," said Blakely. "What I see is we simply have your word that the man was stabbed and it was self-defense. I would like to see some proof."

Craig waited to see how his barrister would handle that.

Actor nodded. "I can obtain proof from the only eye-witness. I would assume if we are able to get him away from his work long enough to testify, you would not want a civilian in these chambers. Am I correct?"

"You are correct, Mr. Borghese," said Gen. Fremont.

"How long would it take you to get this proof?" asked Gen. Abrams.

"Probably late tomorrow morning," said Actor. "Is there anything else you gentlemen would like?"

"Copies of the arrest reports from the police. Disposition of the other Englishmen involved in this incident," said Fremont firmly.

"Those items can be obtained," said Actor accommodatingly.

"Can you obtain them without leaving London?" Fremont stipulated, "I want you two close by."

"Sir . . ." Garrison started to object.

"That can be arranged," said Actor easily. "However, I have no intentions of spending the night in an Army barracks. We can find accommodations here in London. We are treated to enough Army rations as it is. I intend to work on my further defense of Chief in a comfortable, quiet location with access to a decent meal."

"Lt. Garrison," objected Col Hammond.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with him on that, Sir. There is no privacy in a barracks. A hotel room would be better suited for concentration," said Craig.

"And I suppose you want us to foot the bill for this?" asked Gen. Fremont in amusement.

"That will not be necessary," said Actor. He knew they would not a get a penny from the Army for lodging.

"This is absurd!" objected the British general. Actor gave the officer one of his famous looks. "Never mind, I know," said Blakely. "You are not regular Army."

"I am not regular Army," clarified Actor. "The Lieutenant is however. But he would be obliged to keep me under surveillance."

Major Richards was grinning now.

General Fremont just shook his head. "All right, this meeting is adjourned for today. We will reconvene tomorrow at 1000 hours.

GGG

After the room had cleared, Actor went out in search of a pay phone. He found one at a waiting area down the hall. Garrison followed him, watching to see what the confidence man was up to. Actor pulled his little black book from his inner jacket pocket.  
"Oh, no," objected Garrison. "We are not staying with one of you lady friends."

Actor looked at him with exaggerated umbrage. "Excuse me, Lieutenant, I do not share my 'lady friends.' I do have other phone numbers in here besides women." He proceeded to thumb through the little book and dial a number, putting the correct coins from his pocket into the slot for the call. After a minute, he smiled. "Yes, this is Count Mancini. Would you have my suite available for this evening?" There was a pause. "Oh, so disappointing. Do you have anything of almost the same caliber available." Another pause. "No, I understand. Thank you." He hung up and thumbed through the book some more before dialing another number. "Yes, this is Count Borghese. Would you happen to have a suite available for tonight?" A bigger smile came to his face. "Yes, thank you, that will be fine. And could we reserve a table for 8 pm?" Another pause. "Wonderful. Thank you." He hung up after a second.

"Count?" asked Garrison.

Actor shrugged. "It goes with the accent."

A half hour later, Craig looked around the rather opulent front room of the suite, wondering what he was doing here? He couldn't afford the Savoy and hated it when Actor footed the bill for something above his budget.

"Don't worry about it," came Actor's voice from a bedroom. "Think of it as my repaying you for the tenuous freedom you have provided me thus far."

How can he always read my mind, wondered Craig, not for the first nor last time. He went into the bedroom that was his and set his kit atop the bed. What a bed it was too. It was tall and canopied. The curved headboard was black with gilt trim. Craig pushed a hand on the mattress. This was even softer than the mattresses at the Mansion. He opened the kit and removed the folded backup uniform he had brought. Smoothing the material, he walked to the armoire and took hangers from it. The two hangers with the uniform seemed dwarfed in the cavernous interior as he hung them up. So much for that.

He wandered over to the Italian's bedroom, wondering why it was taking Actor so long to hang up his clothes. The man was bent over an identical bed, smoothing the material of his purple smoking jacket. How much clothing had the man brought with him? Actor did not look up as he hung the jacket on a hanger and moved to the open armoire to place it on the rod beside pants, shirt and another jacket.

A discreet knock came from the door to the suite.

"Could you get that please?" asked Actor.

Why not? The man wasn't going to be done anytime soon, judging by the fact he was back pulling clothes from the bag. Garrison went to the door and opened it. Training kept him from staring. There was a slightly rotund, older man in a three-piece suit standing there with hands crossed before him.

"Good afternoon, Sir," said the man with a slight lilting accent to the soft voice. "My name is Sean and I am your butler. I will unpack your luggage."

"It's already done," said Garrison.

"Ah, I am sorry for the delay, Sir."

"It's fine," said Garrison.

"Is there anything else I may do for you?" asked the man.

"No, thank you," said Garrison. "If you will wait just a moment, I will check with Count Borghese and see if he has need of your services."

Garrison stepped back and walked to Actor's room. "Excuse me, 'Count.' Your butler is here. He wishes to know if you need him?"

Actor straightened and walked past Garrison. A smile crossed his face when he saw the suited man at the door. "Sean. It is good to see you again," said Actor.

"Count Borghese, it has been a long time. Welcome back to the Savoy, Sir."

"Yes, it has been a few years," said Actor easily.

"Is there anything I might do for you?" asked Sean.

"Not at this time," said Actor.

"Will you be having dinner in the suite, Count?" asked the butler expectantly.

Actor shook his head. "My friend wishes to dine in the dining room tonight."

"I see. When do you wish me to turn down the beds, Sir?"

Actor glanced at Garrison who had approached to listen to this. Craig indicated that was up to Actor. "Ten o'clock will be fine."

"Of course, Count. And if there is anything you might require at any time, please ask for me."

"As always, Sean," smiled Actor graciously.

The butler bobbed a formal nod and backed up, pulling the door closed.

Actor turned back to Garrison. The officer was watching him in bemusement. The confidence man realized the younger man had probably never stayed in a place such as this except on a mission. He grinned.

"Welcome to my world, Lieutenant."

"Right," said Garrison drolly.

Actor sighed. "Now to the business at hand. First a call to Teresa and then planning this mission."

Craig followed him over to the sofa. Actor sat and pulled the telephone from the side table and placed it on the coffee table in front of his knees. Garrison sat on the other end of the couch. Actor lifted the receiver and waited for the voice of the hotel operator.

"An outside line please," he requested.

A moment later, he dialed the Mansion's number. The Sgt./Major answered on the second ring.

"I wish to speak with Teresa," said Actor shortly. He did not want to field the questions that usually came from the British non-com.

Momentarily, Teresa answered the phone. "Actor?"

"Yes," answered the con man. "Now listen carefully. We need you to do some errands for us."

"Okay," said the girl carefully.

"Teresa, do you know what a deposition is?" asked Actor.

The girl's hackles went up. "Are you being condescending" she asked.

"No," he replied in a short tone. "I am asking you if you know what a deposition is."

"Yes," she replied calmly. "I've written one before."

"Good. I want you to take Robbie to G-2 in Brandonshire, have him fill one out on what he observed with Chief, have it notarized, and bring it to Allied Command in the morning. I also need the police reports on the incident and the disposition of the men involved."

"Okay, I can do that," said Terry. "How is it going?"

Actor sighed. "I would not need a deposition if it was going well, cara."

"I guess not," conceded Terry.

"The Warden would like to talk to you."

The phone was handed to Garrison.

"Oki," said Craig.

"Oki," replied Terry, immediately switching to Blackfoot.

Craig continued in the Indian language. "Contact your brother. Have him go to our sister. Tell her things are not looking too good for her package. We may have to move it on short notice."

"Move it where?" asked Terry. "The free land across the ditch?"

"Probably."

“They'll hang you for sure this time," she warned.

"My jail won't be as long as his."

"And what about the others?" demanded the girl. "What will happen to them? They'll go back to where they came from. Even if I can get the two here across the ditch, you still have the big one with you."

"I don't know, Terry!" exclaimed Craig in English. "Right now, I just don't know. I'm out of ideas. I never had a clear idea!"

"Okay," said the girl soothingly in Blackfoot. "I assume you have an afternoon to come up with something. Let your lawyer do some work."

"We don't have a lawyer," said Craig, resuming the language. "We do, but not the one the army assigned to us."

"Well, the one you have is probably a whole lot better. Let him run with it."

"Yeah, sorry, I'm running out of steam," apologized Garrison.

"So get some rest." Terry frowned. "Where are you?" she asked in English. "That doesn't sound like a barracks."

"The Savoy."

Terry laughed. "What was wrong with the Windsor?"

"I guess it was booked."

"Are you complaining?" asked an amused Italian accented voice in the background.

"Not exactly."

"Okay, I'll get right on everything," assured the girl. "I'll see you tomorrow."


	7. Chapter 7

Terry looked up at the imposing edifice that housed Allied Command in London. She had found a parking space a block away. She wasn't sure what kind of a mess she was about to walk into. It might be prudent to not tell her brother about the last orders she had given to Casino and Goniff before she left. If things were going to go way wrong, she would call and tell Casino her MG had broken down and could he come get it started for her. That was the code for 'get the heck out of there.' She tucked the papers securely under her arm, reached into her purse for her clearance, and walked up to the door.

"Gentlemen, Mr. Sands has never attempted to escape. He has a volatile temper, but that is mostly based on his experiences in the prison system and the prejudice against his heritage." Actor was trying to convince the officers of the young man's merit . . . and stall for time.

Behind him, Garrison surreptitiously looked at his watch. It was 10:30 and his sister should have been here by now.

"Mr. Sands, is studying and trying to better himself using the books in the Mansion library. And, as we have all witnessed, this man is not a cold-blooded killer."

"Yes, Mr. Borghese," said General Fremont irritably. He turned to look at Garrison. "Where is your sister?"

"I am sure she is on the way, Sir," replied Garrison confidently.

Actor knew he had lost them. He returned to his seat beside the Lieutenant to regroup and think of a different strategy. It would be Garrison's turn next to convince the officers.

The door behind them opened and the men at the long table looked expectantly at the person entering the room. She moved quickly up to Actor's left elbow and placed a folder in front of him.

"Request permission to approach," said Terry.

"You may approach," said Gen. Fremont.

"Sorry I'm late," she said. "The Jerries decided last night would be a good time to bomb the road."

She walked up to Fremont and opened another folder on the table in front of the gray-haired man. "I only have two copies, Sir." She bent over the table and flipped through pages. "I have a deposition from the barkeep at the Doves, who witnessed the altercation. Here are the arrest reports on our men and the other men. I took the liberty of getting the other men’s previous arrest records. The dead man died of a knife wound to the heart. His body has been returned to London.

"Where are the other assailants, Miss Garrison?" asked Gen. Abrams.

"They were released and have returned to London."

Gen. Fremont was studying the papers before passing them on. Terry figured Actor and Craig could use all the time they could get to study their copies of the papers. She looked at the British colonel and down at his name. With a smile, she moved over and held her hand out to him.

"I don't think I know you, Colonel Blakely," said Terry. "Teresa Garrison. I'm Lt. Garrison's sister."

Col Blakely was a bit taken aback by the forwardness of the young woman. He hesitated before shaking hands with her. "You are a civilian?"

"Pretty much," said Terry conversationally. "I freelance for the War Department in Washington." She paused before adding, "and a few other groups."

"How did you get in here?" asked Blakely in his cultured British accent.

"I have clearance," replied the girl nonchalantly.

"She probably has as much clearance as you do, Colonel," said General Abrams.

Terry turned to the General and mouthed "more."

Actor was keeping one eye on the girl and one on the papers he and Garrison were reading together. "Who taught her?" It was whispered with reluctant admiration.

"Probably our father," said Craig. He looked at his sister who was nodding greetings to the other American officers. "Terry, why don't you sit with us and let the officers read these papers," he suggested firmly.

She winked at Major Richards who gave a silent chuckle and shook his head. Walking behind Actor, she trailed her fingers across his back out of sight of the men in front of them. Craig moved over to another chair, figuring it was better to keep her between them. She sat down.

"Did I do all right?" she whispered to the Italian.

At the risk of inflating her ego, Actor replied. "This is very helpful."

"So what do you want me to do?" Terry asked.

"Sit there and keep your mouth shut," whispered Craig, firmly.

Unhappy, she sat back in her chair. The officers were passing and reading the reports between themselves.

Actor pushed a sheet of paper in front of her for Garrison to look at. "It would appear this is not their first time trying to pick a fight. They seem to have used that tactic to roll their victims before."

"Can you use this to our advantage?" asked Craig barely above a whisper.

The con man nodded. "I can try."

Craig looked at another paper. "okay, so what if we . . ."

GGGG

Kelly Garrison entered the Golden Unicorn and glanced around. With a smile he walked up to the woman at the desk.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Kelly. "I'm looking for Chantel DeCaliente."

"She's in her room I believe. She's 'occupied'."

"That's okay. I'm her brother." He caught the flick of an amused look on the woman's face.

An arm gestured toward the staircase. "Upstairs, down the hall, last door on your right."

"Thanks," said Kelly.

He turned and walked up the steps. What had Chris been up to in the short time they had been here, he wondered.

The young girl seemed to have a collection of brothers, thought the woman at the desk. First, the darkish skinned one she had come in with, and now the blue-eyed blond. Neither looked like the girl. Oh well, she could have a dozen brothers and it wouldn't matter so long as her money was good.

Kelly found the end room and knocked softly. The door opened a crack as his sister peeked out and then opened wide enough for him to see Chief standing alertly a short distance behind her. Kelly motioned Chris to step out into the hall. He didn't want to have this conversation in front of the man he wasn't sure should be with his sister. She stepped out and closed the door. Kelly guided her down the hall a few feet.

"There's a tribunal," said Kelly, getting straight to the point.

"Who is handling it?" asked Chris worriedly.

"Our side, Craig, and I guess Actor. They were trying to make Terry stay out of it, but they needed papers, so she went in this morning. On the other side, Hammond, Richards, Fremont, Abrams, and another British colonel who doesn't know the group."

"Is Craig hopeful?" asked Chris.

"No," replied Kelly, soberly. "They can explain his point of view all they want, but the bottom line is he ran." He looked hard at his sister. "And if they convict him? What are you going to do then? Take him to Switzerland? He doesn't know the language. You willing to go on the run and give up your life for him?"

"If it comes to that," said the girl, defiantly, "yes."

They had not heard the door crack open so Chief could listen to the conversation.

"Why are you against him?" Chris demanded in a low voice. "What do you want from him?"

"Man's older than me. I want him to act like it. He runs and lets the others cover for him and try to defend him. And he drags you into it."

"I went with him willingly, Kelly Garrison," hissed Chris. "And if necessary, I will run with him."

"You just don't learn, Sis," said Kelly sadly. "Nicky was just as bad for you, only in a different way. He's not a lost puppy for you to take care of. But I don't think he's much of a man either."

"You don't know him," objected Chris hotly. "What about Monty? Didn't we go through this with Monty before we adopted him?"

Kelly backed down reluctantly, "Yeah, I guess we did."

"And that worked out okay, didn't it?"

The tall young man nodded.

Chief didn't hear the last part or anything after that. He had silently shut the door and gone out the window, dropping just as silently to the ground. Now there was no time to waste. Kelly was right, just as the earlier Christine had been. He had to stop running. And he was not going to drag Crystal down with him. The keys to her car were in his hand. Chief went to the car and pulled away before Kelly could come out and see him.

"Okay," said Kelly. "As soon as I hear anything, I'll call you here."

"Thanks," said Chris. She watched him walk away. And called out to him. "Kell, he's important to me."

Her brother made a dismissive gesture with one arm, never turning around. Nick Bradford had been important to her too. And that had not turned out well. He did not see Chris follow him to the top of the stairs and stay there until he had left the building before slowly going back to her room.

Kelly pulled the keys to his car out of his pocket. Something about the car park wasn't right. There was an empty space where there should have been a dented blue car. "Dammit!" He turned and headed back inside, shaking his head.

Christine bounded down the stairs just as Kelly came in the door.

"Kell! He's gone! He went out the window!"

"I know."

"What? Did you see him?"

"No," said Kelly with disgust. "He took your car."

"Wha . . . "

"Get your things together. I'll check you out."

In Kelly's car and headed toward London, Chris looked at her brother. "He must have heard us talking in the hall. Oh, Kelly . . ." Her demeanor hardened. "Take me to Allied Command."

"That's where I'm headed," said the boy. "You have clearance with you?"

Chris nodded. "Enough to get me in the door. I have to get a message to Craig and Terry. I have to let them know he's gone."

Kelly remained silent. Stupid man. His older brother and sister were good, but he doubted even they could get the Indian cleared now."

GGGGG

Actor collected himself before approaching Gen. Fremont. Garrison had gone over the paperwork with his 'barrister' and it was decided the confidence man held a better chance of interacting with the officers. He did not have the restriction of dealing with rank that the Lieutenant did.

"As you can see by the previous arrest records of the assailants," Actor began, "they have a history of this same type of behavior. They approach someone, instigate a fight, rob that person when they have subdued him, and get out before the police arrive. They did not succeed this time." Actor made a gesture of asking permission and when he received a nod, reached down to pick out one of the reports. "The deceased man is the only one of the group to have a knife or any weapon besides brass knuckles. And . . ." a long Italian finger pointed to entries on the page, "he has knifed his victims before. When apprehended, he claimed self-defense. In this case, he made the mistake of choosing a victim who was as equally armed as he was."

Actor looked from one officer to another before continuing. "Gentlemen, if someone came at you with a weapon, and you had a weapon, would you not have attempted to defend yourself? Mr. Sands had nothing to gain by killing the man, except to preserve his own life."

"Agreed," conceded Fremont. "Still, he ran. And that is the reason for this tribunal. Even accepting that the killing was a matter of self-defense, we cannot accept that he ran."

Terry had listened to enough. "Excuse me, General," she said rising to her feet and leaning on outstretched arms on the table. "Chief . . . Mr. Sands . . . has spent most of his life in jails and prisons, not necessarily because he belonged to be there. He accepted the offer the army made to him to get a parole and have the chance to make something good of his life. Nobody believes a convict. What did you expect him to do? Stick around and wait to be arrested and thrown back into prison?"

"Terry sit down," ordered her brother.

Actor had a strong desire to strangle her.

"No, Lieutenant," objected Major Richards. "Allow her to speak." He knew her and he knew the men. Actor was doing a superb job of acting as barrister, but even he had restrictions with this group of officers the young woman would totally ignore. "Let her continue."

All eyes went to General Fremont. He sat back in his chair, tented his fingers in front of him and nodded. If nothing else, it might be entertaining.

Terry pushed her chair back and stepped around the table, passing Actor, and not responding to the glare she received in passing. She stopped where the con man had been standing and followed his lead, looking at each man individually down the line.

"Gentlemen, you all know Chief," she said. With a frown, she looked at the British officer. "I would guess you don't," she said. None the less, she continued. "First, he is not 26 years old like it says in his record. He's 22. He has been in and out of jail and juvenile detention centers since he was twelve. He spent most of his childhood in Indian schools. Indian schools are bad places. We have an adopted brother from one. We know what they are like. They try to take the children's heritage away from them. Nothing illegal about that. But it isn't right."

"How do we shut her up?" whispered Garrison to his second.

Actor glanced at him and whispered back. "Let her go. She is using a tactic we have not used."

"Monty, our brother, said at age 16, he would never go back to one of those places." Terry paced back and forth before the officers. "I'd run too if I thought I was going to be sent back to some place like that. And that's what prison is too. You can't judge Chief the way you would judge a regular soldier. You can't even judge Chief by the way you would normally judge a prisoner."

"All right, Miss Garrison," said Fremont. "Have a seat and allow us to discuss this between us."

Terry nodded and went back to her chair. Craig's hand gripped her leg under the table. "Just sit still and keep your mouth shut before you get him hung," he whispered in her ear.

"They won't hang him," said Terry. "They will probably send him back to prison if they get their hands on him, but they won't hang him."

The door at the back of the room opened and Chief entered in the company of an MP, but not shackled. Major Richards looked at him with eyebrows raised in surprise. Garrison saw the look and knew what was going on behind him. He pulled the chair next to him partially out and turned to look over his shoulder as his sister and Actor were doing.

"Sit down," Craig ordered.

"No, Lieutenant," countermanded General Abrams. "Mr. Sands, front and center!" He pointed to a spot in front of the tables.

Chief stepped forward and stopped in front of the General. His obsidian eyes watched the officer. His face was stoic, but not defiant.

"Why did you run, Mr. Sands?" asked Abrams.

"Figured you would either send me back to prison or kill me."

The officers studied him.

"So why did you come back?" asked Richards.

"Realize you had nowhere to go?" added Fremont.

"No," said Chief. "Figured all I was gonna do was get the Lieutenant and the others into trouble. I owe 'em too much. Can't do that to them."

The door opened again, and a corporal silently walked up to Terry and held a folded piece of paper out to her. Terry opened it and read it with a silent snort. She wiggled her finger for the corporal to come close so she could whisper in his ear.

"Tell them to wait right where they are. This may take a while."

"Yes, Ma'am," he whispered back.

Garrison shot an irritated look at the girl and Actor gave her a quick questioning glance. She held the paper out to her brother. He read it and shook his head, handing it back to her. Terry passed it to Actor.

"In this man's army, you are guilty, not of murder, but of desertion," said Abrams. His voice was less harsh now. "What do you think we should do to you for this breach?"

Chief shrugged, "I figure you'll send me back to Attica."

The General now looked at the three sitting behind the Indian. "Well, Lt. Garrison, what do you think we should do with him?"

Craig's chin rose just a bit. "Sir, he's a valuable member of the team. As we have tried to explain to you, Chief's reaction to killing that civilian would be understandable. As I said, he's a valuable part of the team. And he did return. He's not regular army, Sir, so perhaps the General could see his way to release him back to our custody."

"He is a valuable part of the group," concurred Richards. "They all work well together. I'd hate to lose the edge they have by replacing him with an unknown entity."

"He did come back," Terry said.

Craig poked her leg under the table to get her to be quiet.

"Under the circumstances at the Doves," said Actor calmly, "any one of us might be inclined to go into hiding until we had time to think things through. We are not used to leniency."

"Except from the Lieutenant," Richards grinned.

"It works well for all of us," parried the con man.

General Abrams looked at the two other officers at his table. "Any questions?" There were head shakes in the negative. The older man pinned Chief with his eyes. "If we ask you to wait in the hall while we discuss this, do we need to handcuff you?"

"No, Sir," replied Chief. "Ain't plannin' on going anywhere."

"Then the four of you will retire to the hall until we reach a decision."

The three stood and Garrison saluted. They quietly left the room. Out in the hall, Terry turned to Craig.

"What do you think?"

"It might be all right," said Garrison carefully. "It's hard to tell."

"I think General Abrams and Major Richards are on our side," observed Actor. "The questionable ones are General Fremont, Colonel Hammond and Colonel Blakely."

"Well, let's hope one of them goes along with the other two," said Craig. He looked at his scout and shook his head. "Why didn't they let Chris come up with you?"

Chief looked uncomfortable. "Chris isn't with me. I took her car."

"Great," said Garrison. "We can add grand theft auto to the mix."

"That will be the least of our worries, Lieutenant," said Actor.

Terry frowned. "Was Kelly with you when you left?"

"He was with Chris," replied the Indian sullenly.

"Well, they are both downstairs," said Terry.

Chief was still worried. "Warden, what do you think they'll do?"

"I don't know for sure," said Garrison. "They could let you off or send you back to prison. That's the only two options I can see."

"It would be a bit difficult to parole him before he is paroled," remarked Actor.

The three men exchanged looks. Terry shook her head.

"I'm going down and talk to Chris and Kell," she said.

The men watched her walk away.

"I don't believe I have ever met a woman quite like her," said Actor, shaking his head.

"You're lucky," said Craig. He gave a small grin. "She is something. She was the wild one growing up."

"Can see that," said Chief. "Glad she's on our side." He turned pensive. His expectation of the tribunal outcome wasn't a positive one. He looked at Actor and Garrison. The two were standing side by side, like the brothers they sometimes seemed to be but weren't. "Listen," he said. "No matter what happens . . . I appreciate everything you two have done for me. You could've just written me off."

"No, we couldn't," said Garrison quietly. "We are a team and teams need to stick together."

"Besides," added Actor, "it would not look good on the Lieutenant's record if he just let the Army throw you back in prison without a fight."

Both men looked at the older man startled. The wicked grin and twinkling eyes of the confidence man brought reluctant grins from them. They sat down on the bench in the hall and waited for the door to the tribunal room to open. It did not take long.  
Ten minutes had passed when the door opened and one of the inside guards motioned them back in. Garrison stopped next to one of the outside guards and asked him to get word to the girl to come up. The guard nodded.

Inside, Chief stood in front of the line of officers, the same stoic look on his face. Garrison and Actor flanked him. General Fremont was sitting as before, leaning back with his hands tented in front of him. He focused on the young man who had caused all this trouble.

"The information given to us, and the testimonies of Lt. Garrison, Mr. Borghese, and Miss Garrison have been reviewed. Due to the – unique – group you belong to, Mr. Sands, it has been decided by majority to release you to the custody of Lt. Garrison. Before Chief could take a breath in relief, the general continued. "However, if something like this happens again, there will be no tribunal. You will be returned directly to Attica with no time off for the work you have been doing with this group. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," replied Chief.

"This tribunal has ended," said Fremont.

The officers stood and began collecting their papers. Garrison gave a salute that was not returned by General Fremont. So, he was back in the doghouse again. It wasn't the first time and with this crew, Craig figured it wouldn't be the last.

The door opened and Terry hurried in. Actor gave a slow blink of his eyes as was the way they communicated on missions. Terry relaxed a little and waited for the men to reach her.

"Outside," whispered Garrison.

Out in the hallway, they stopped, and Garrison told his sister the verdict. Before she could react, the door opened again, and Major Richards came out. He walked up to Craig.

"You might like to know," he said quietly, "General Fremont was the only opposing vote to dismiss charges."

"Thank you, Major," said Garrison.

They parted company and Garrison shepherded his group down the hall.

"Kelly left," said Terry. "I assume Chris has her car back. I have mine and you must have the Packard."

"That covers it," said Craig. "Let's go home before they think up another mission."

Downstairs, Christine was waiting impatiently. She gave a broad smile when she saw Chief come down the stairs with the rest of them.

"Give me a minute, Warden?" asked the Indian.

Craig nodded, keeping an eye on his youngest sister. Chief crossed over to the girl.

"Are you going to tell me where they were?" Garrison asked Terry.

The young woman's eyes connected with Actor's. He was standing behind the officer. There was a minute shake of the head with a tiny grin. "Nope," she said. With a grin, she walked out the door.

Chief stopped in front of Chris and looked at her, unsmiling. "Thanks for what you did. You should listen to your brother."

"Which one?" asked the girl.

"Kelly."

Chris looked up at him. "Kelly isn't always right. I'm glad you aren't going back to prison. Just remember, Rainey, I'm not done with you yet."

She held her hand out, palm up, and waggled her fingers. With a grin, Chief reached into his pocket and pulled out her car keys, dropping them into her open palm. She closed her fingers over them, turned on her heels and bounced out the door.

"So much for family visit," remarked Terry.

Chief approached the three and looked at them. "Can we get outta here?"

"I think that's a marvelous idea," said Actor. It had been a tiring week and he would be happy to get back to the nice, noisy mansion.

The four headed out the door behind Christine. Terry veered off to get her MG. As she walked away she heard Craig ask Chief, "I don't suppose you would care to tell me where you two were."

"No," replied the Indian. "That's why they call it a safe house, Warden."

GGG

Back at the mansion, greetings were exchanged and as expected, Casino griped about them bringing the Indian back. Here he thought they would get a new scout who wasn't such a pain in the rear. The usual bickering started.

Garrison and Actor went into the relative peace of Craig's office while Terry went to the kitchen with the Sgt./Major to get some sandwiches. Actor would not have minded another night at the Savoy, but with Chief and Terry with them, it would not have been as restful. The two men barely looked up when the girl returned with a plate of sandwiches which was set on the corner of the desk. Actor was sitting in the chair facing the desk and was not inclined to move. Terry walked up behind him and lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me, caro mio, why did he," she pointed a finger at her brother, "get taken to the Savoy and all I got was the Windsor?"

Craig looked expectantly at Actor for the answer to that.

"Teresa," said Actor with exaggerated patience, "there were five of us at the Windsor. You got your own room so you should be happy. Besides, my suite was not available at the Windsor, but the Savoy had one."

Now Craig grinned at his sister. "And we had a butler. Did you?"

"Butler!" exclaimed the girl. She flicked the side of Actor's head with her fingers. "You got him a butler?"

"Thank you, Lieutenant," the Italian sad sourly. He looked over his shoulder at the teasing green eyes. "Now I suppose you wish me to take you to the Savoy so you may have your own ladies' maid?" He shook his head. "I don't think the Warden would approve of you spending the night alone with me."

"You're right," said Terry, regretfully. "He didn't approve the last two time you took me to the Windsor."

"And have there been more than two times he has taken you to the Windsor?" asked her brother, teasing evident in his voice.

"No," she said truthfully. Craig didn't know about the house in Hampton, so she didn't have to mention it; much to Actor's relief.

GGGGG

In a shabby flat on the lower east end, several scruffy men were holding a conference.

One of the men had taken the leading role in the group. "Someday, some'ow, we're going to find where those blokes live and we're going to get even for the one killin' Roy."

There were nods and grunts of approval.


End file.
